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http://www.archive.org/details/dreampreludeotheOOjamerich 


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DREAM  PRELUDE 

AND  OTHER  VERSES 


/Ai;^:^•:• 


COPYRIGHTED  199 

(All  Rights  Reserved) 

by 

ROY  WALTER  JAMES 


COVINA    CITIZEN 
Covina,  California 


415572 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

(WITH  THEMATIC  INDEX) 

DREAM  PRELUDE 

Palace  of  my  dreams 7 

THE  STUDENT  AND  THE  FLY  (A  One-Act  Play)  9 

Cast  of  Characters  10 

SCENE  I 

Student:     "Ha!  Ha!  some  queer  sensation  trickles  o'er"  H 

SCENE  II 

First  Fly:  "Right  glad  am  I  our  masters  are  not  here"  24 

SCENE  m 

Student:    "Horrors!  Was  that  a  ghost  I  saw?" 41 

PARADISE 

The  dew  as  yet  is  on  the  springtime  grass  50 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  MARSH 

Ha!  ha!  I  love  the  swamps  and  sloughs  51 

IN  DESERT  WINTER  WIND 

I  sit  upon  a  sand-dune  bleak  53 

SUNSET 

A  gloom  the  glade  pervades 54 

IN  DESERT  WASH 

How  parched,  and  scorched,  and  dry  55 

SIERRA  SUNSET 

When  the  sun  is  sinking  golden  56 

ALONE 

'Neath  weeping  willow  sapling  on  a  stone  57 

UNKNOWN 

Far  up  the  mountain  side  there  sings ^ 58 

ONLY  A  FROG 

Only  a  frog 60 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  (Continued) 

THE  DEVIL'S  RHAPSODY 

With  a  "Ha!  ha!   ha!"  and  a  "Ho!  ho!   ho!"  62 

OUT  OF  THE  DEEP 

I  saw  or  thought  I  saw  71 

THE  LEGEND  OF  "LAS  LAMAS'* 

Down  in  a  level  plain  74 

TO  THOMAS  A.  EDISON 

Master  mechanic  mind  81 

TO  CHOPIN  (No.  1) 

Far  off  beyond  the  distant  skies  81 

TO  RUBENSTEIN 

Could  I  have  only  heard  just  once  82 

NEAR  THE  SEA 

Far  down  the  hill  past  cypress  tree  83 

HOMO  ET  NATURA 

The  greatest  book  will  ne'er  be  made  83 

WHY 

The  Earth  moves  on  and  rolls  itself 85 

GENTLE  RAIN 

I  love  the  gentle  dripping  rain  86 

OH,  OCEAN! 

With  all  the  throbbing  woe 87 

MY  DREAM  PIANIST  (To  Alec  W.  Anderson) 

Swinging, — swaying, — back  and  on   89 

THE  FOUNTAIN 

In  still  and  starry  night  91 

TO  WILLIAM  WENDT 

All  nature  glows  with  sweetest  smiles  92 

AT  LAGUNA 

The  rocky  caverns  Issue  forth  a  muffled  roar  -f. 93 

YELFENSO 

Far  out  across  the  paling  hills  94 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  ( Continued  ) 

SHADY  NOOKS 

Far  o'er  In  the  shadowy  trees'  deep  shade    95 

TO  MME.  ELLEN  BEACH  YAW 

Echo!    Echo!   fall  thou  hither  96 

A  PAINTER'S  SONG 

I  painted  a  scene  when  the  hills  were  green  97 

THE  WIZARD— OLD  BALDY 

When  the  sun  with  his  head  of  blazing  red  9g 

LOVE 

Who  has  a  perfect  soul  102 

THE  HAUNTING  TRAIL 

Ha!  ha!  just  wait  till  work  Is  done  103 

A  WANDERER'S  SONG 

When  I  sit  around  the  flre  : •. 104 

DREAMING 

Dreaming,  dreaming,  drifting  along  In  a  dream  106 

—BUT  ALL  OF  US  ANGELS  ARE 

Some  of  us  are  good,  some  of  us  are  bad  106 

IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  HEARTLESS 

Worn   out, — far   off, — alone —   107 

OF  LATE 

Oh  God!  my  friends  fade  fast  away  109 

FAREWELL 

Can  Walls  resound  with  laughter  of  the  past  HO 

SALAMANDER 

Red  salamander  I  HI 

LIFE'S  EPITOME 

Changing  ever  in  a  grand  ethereal  cycle 112 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE 

It's  the  man  wlth^he  hoe  that  cuts  the  weeds  115 

NOW 

Ha!  ha!  some  solely  seek  to  gain 116 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  (Continued) 

BEAUTY 

If  everyone  could  only  see  Hg 

TO  ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON  ' 

I've  never  seen  the  golden  sun  117 

YOU  OR  I? 

With  clanging  bells,  and  honk  on  honk  Hg 

IN  MEMORIAM 

We  all  are  beckoned  forth  by  gracious  hand  119 

HIS  MAJESTY 

With  a  "Rah-ta-ta,"  and  a  sharp  "Car-hoo"  122 

A  PERFECT  LAND 

Far  to  the  west  in  sunset  land  123 

WHERE  BALDY  REIGNS  IN  PEACE 

Did  you  ever  see  when  you  traveled  free  123 

TO  HELEN 

Oft  when  I  sit  at  evening  time 124 

TO  WORK 

I  meet  a  face  upon  my  way  to  work • 125 

TO  LAUGH  OR  TO  CRY 

When  you  don't  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  125 

POST  MORTEM 

Tho  now  I  lie  with  pallid  white,  crossed  hands  126 

POST  SCRIPT 

Tho  now  the  end  is  here 


PREFACE 

WITH  George  Washington  in  mind  it  is  impossible  ta 
be  deceiving,  so  will  frankly  state  that  the  rea- 
son for  publishing  the  following  pages  is  for  the 
purpose  of  getting  them  copyrighted;  and  while  having 
them  printed,  thinking  some  friends  may  be  desirous  of 
having  a  copy,  a  few  extras  are  being  made.  This  is  in 
no  way  an  artistic,  well  bound,  or  attractive  volume ;  and 
is  not  considered  to  be  put  before  the  general  public — 
but  just  for  local  friends.  Some  years  hence  the  work 
here,  together  with  a  previously  bound  book  of  verse,  may 
be  published  by  the  Poet  Lore  Co.  of  Boston,  who  have 
spoken  already  for  the  work,  and  placed  before  the  gen- 
eral public  in  the  shape  of  a  well-bound,  well  illustrated, 
and  altogether  artistic  work. 

My  only  ambition  at  present  is  to  get  them  copyright- 
ed and  put  them  under  my  hat,  as  it  were,  and  keep  them 
there  for  a  sufficient  number  of  years  to  find  out  if  they 
are  really  worthy  of  broadcast  publication  or  not. 

I  wish  to  express  my  most  sincere  thanks  and  deep 
appreciation  to  Mr.  Edwin  Jobe  for  technical  correction 
and  criticism. 

The  playlet,  tho  quite  original,  may  not  appeal  to 
some  people  for  various  reasons ;  but  if  others  consider  the 
time  spent  in  reading  it,  well  spent,  and  enjoy  it — I  shall 
be  satisfied.  It  is  likely  that  all  the  verses  here  will  not 
appeal  to  everyone,  as  they  are  so  diverse  in  their  senti- 
ment and  subject — but  if  one  is  found  which  "comes 
home"  to  the  reader — that  is  sufficient;  and  if  a  friend 
read  one  a  third  time  because  of  its  merit  alone,  I  wiH 
deem  it  the  highest  of  honors. 


Covina,  Cal. 


<i^LXUaBt5?LJ^^ 


APOLOGY: 

"These  are  but  idle  dreams,  and  are  not  few 

But  dreams  are  all  that  made  this  wonder-world." 

From  "The  Eagle" — By  Roy  Walter  James. 


DREAM  PRELUDE 

JND  OTHER  VERSES 


COPYRIGHTED  19B 
(All  Rights  Reserved) 

by 
ROY  WALTER  JAMES 


COVINA  CITIZEN 
Covlna,  California 


5       J     U    ' 


Dream  Prelude 

(To  Clouds) 


Palace  of  my  dreams, 

You  sail  before  my  eyes; 
Palace  of  my  dreams, 
My  daily  paradise. 
Oh!  Palace  form  serene 
That  sails  o'er  mottled  green 
To  distant  hills,  and  then 
Beyond  the  sight  of  men ; 
I  love  to  contemplate 
The  joy  you  must  obtain 
By  holding  there  obscure, 
My  dreams  which  go  to  reign 
Within  your  walls  of  slate 
As  long  as  you  endure; 
Within  your  walls  of  slate; 
Transparent  glow  of  gold 
In  early  morning  light; 
Or  silver  shining  bright 
On  sunny  afternoon ; 
With  walls  and  towers  afire 
When  blazing  sun  is  low; 
Or  with  the  light  of  moon 
Upon  your  spires  at  night. 
My  dreams  within  will  reign, 
And  dwell,  and  dwelling  go 
Across  both  sea  and  plain 
Where  you  are  wont  to  go; — 
Where  you  are  wont  to  go, 


,•-  «         e     < 


'••      ••-       .  .. 

8 


My  dreams  will  dwell — 
With  you  will  dwell. 

II 

My  dreams  of  yesterday, 
And  yesterdays  bygone, 
Clear  on,  and  on,  and  on. 
Thru  times  long  passed  away; 
All  childhood  dreams,  and  all, 

Are  dwelling  in  a  cloud: 

Not  dressed  in  ghastly  shroud, 
But  glide  by  rainbow  wall. 
In  rainbow  garments  all: 

Transparent  silver  grey; 

Or  at  the  end  of  day 
In  blazing  sunset  hue; 
They  dress  in  cloud  array. 

Ill 

The  dreams  I  dream  enow 
Are  sailing  up  above, 
Up  to  the  cloud  I  love ; 
While  I  lie  lowly  here 
On  grass  of  rolling  hill, 
Near  music  of  the  rill ; 
From  you  so  far — so  near. 

IV 

Oh !  surely  what  a  joy  'twould  be 

If  I  could  only  go 
Up  there  to  dwell  with  all  my  dreams ; 
Sail  on,  and  on,  o'er  land  and  sea 

With  all  my  dreams,  I  know 
Twould  be  a  paradise  for  me. 


A  dream  materialized — 
What  else  could  be 
Your  changing  form  eternally? 


The  Student  and  the  Fly 


A  One  Act  Play 


^ 


10 


The  Student  and  the  Fly 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 

(a)  Student 

(b)  Death 

(c)  Witch 

(d)  Science 

(e)  First  Fly 

(f)  Second  Fly 

(g)  Third  Fly 
(h)    Fourth  Fly 
(i)   Fifth  Fly 
(j)   Sixth  Fly 


11 


THE  STUDENT  AND  THE  FLY 

A  ONE  ACT  PLAY 


SCENE    1 

(An  open  space  in  a  dense  wood, — a  sunlit  place.) 

(Enter  STUDENT,  running  and  frightened.) 

STUDENT : 

Ha!  Ha!  some  queer  sensation  trickles  o'er 

My  weary  mind,  and  something  whispers  loud 

Unto  my  mind  to  pluck  my  feet  away. 

To  run,  to  fly — from  this  foul  ground  away. 

But  why  should  I  have  but  a  vacant  fear? 

Why  should  I  from  this  place  depart  away? 

I  cannot  see  a  danger  lurking  here, 

And  truly  it  is  as  yet  light  of  day. 

Ah !   Fleeting  fear  that  frightens  on  apace. 

Then  leaves  us  when  but  reason  brings  us  will. 

Ye  Gods!  that  awful  dread, — whence  camest  thou? 

Ye  monster  of  the  deep  that  grips  my  soul. 

And  makes  the  needles  creep  both  up  and  down 

My  spine,  and  makes  my  blood  run  cold ; 

And  makes  me  wonder  where  that  I  may  flee. 

Yet  still  the  sun  shines  warm,  and  now  around 

The  sand,  the  heat  waves  shimmer  about  where 

I  stand.     The  fear  is  gone — yet  comes  once  more — 

To  fly  hence — hence, — hence  from  this  place  away,  , 

A  demon  has  my  will! 

(EXIT,  running  and  holding  his  head,  left  of  stage.  ENTER — proces- 
sion of  FLIES,  each  a  carrier  of  a  disease.  All  line  up  along  the 
front  of  the  stage.) 

FIRST  FLY: 

I  carry  a  germ,  my  weapon  germ, 
That  kills  the  race  of  man: 


12 

I  flit  around  his  dwelling  place, 

And  kill  him  when  I  can. 
I  carry  the  germ  of  leprosy, 

A  germ  that's  ghastly  mean ; 
A  germ  that  kills  by  bits,  by  bits 

A  germ  man  hasn't  seen. 
I  love  to  see  man  struggle  hard, 

To  fight  the  germ  I  bring; 
But  I  know  that  he  cannot  win, 

So  buzzingly  I  sing. 
ALL  FLIES: 

(Repeat  in  concert  while  circling  in  a  ring,  in  lock-step  formation.) 

We  take  our  germs  where'er  we  go. 

And  leave  them  here  and  there ; 
We  take  them  up  and  down  below. 

And  plant  them  in  the  air. 
We  have  our  germs  upon  our  feet, 

And  on  our  mouths  they  are; 
We  pick  them  up  out  in  the  street, 

And  take  them  near  and  far. 
(Then  all  the  FLIES  line  up  again  as  before.) 

SECOND  FLY: 

I  carry  a  germ,  my  weapon  germ. 

That  kills  the  race  of  man ; 
I  flit  around  his  dwelling  place. 

And  kill  him  when  I  can. 
I  have  the  hateful  small-pox  germ. 

And  spread  it  where  I  go ; 
I  sprinkle  germs  on  each  child's  lips. 

And  crawl  across  his  toe ; 
I  put  germs  on  his  fingertips, 

And  other  places,  too. 
Then  out  again  I  buzz  my  way 

To  get  more  germs  to  sow. 

ALL  FLIES: 

(Repeat  together  while  circling  as  before.) 
We  love  to  spread  our  germs  around. 


13 

By  walking  on  men's  lips; 
We  often  light  upon  the  ground, 

Then  walk  on  food  he  sips. 
We  buzz  around  and  torment  him, 

And  drop  germs  on  his  face; 
Then  crawl  around  on  six  legs  slim, 
Out  in  a  barnyard  place. 
(Then  all  FLIES  line  up  again,  and  the  THIRD  FLY  speaks.) 
THIRD  FLY : 

I  carry  a  germ,  my  weapon  germ. 

That  kills  the  race  of  man; 
I  flit  around  his  dwelling  place. 

And  kill  him  when  I  can. 
My  germ  makes  throat  swell  round  and  large, 

And  red  and  sore  it  grows; 
My  germ  is  tonsilitis  germ, 

A  germ  man  always  knows. 
I  throw  my  germs  so  thick  and  fast, 

Across  the  paths  of  man. 
That  soon  or  late  he  gets  my  germ ; 

So  buzzingly  I  fan. 
ALL  FLIES: 

(While  circling  as  before) 

We  wend  our  way  the  whole  world  o'er. 

And  everywhere  we  are; 
We  try  to  catch  man  long  before, 

He  finds  out  where  we  are. 
And  feed  him  germs  so  thick  and  fast. 

While  yet  he  does  not  know; 
Then  sick  he  gets — and  then  at  last. 

He  sinks  where  pitchforks  glow. 
(Then  all  the  FLIES  line  up  again,  and  the  FOURTH  FLY  speaks) 
FOURTH  FLY: 

I  carry  a  germ,  my  weapon  germ. 

That  kills  the  race  of  man ;  v 

I  flit  around  his  dwelling  place. 
And  kill  him  when  I  can. 


14 

I  spread  my  germ  from  man  to  man, 

From  house  to  house  I  go; 
My  germ  that  pains — and  pains — and  pains — 

My  germ  that  kills  so  slow; 
My  germ  is  typhoid  fever  germ, 

That  makes  men  weak  and  thin. 
I  spread  my  germ  from  man  to  man 

As  I  go  out  and  in. 
ALL  FLIES: 

(While  circling  as  before.) 

We  swing  and  sway  the  whole  long  day, 

And  buzz  in  barnyard  near; 
And  flit  far  out  across  the  way, 

With  nothing  there  to  fear. 
We  flit  across  the  swamps  and  sloughs. 

And  far-flung  meadows  too ; 
And  gather  germs  we  try  to  use 

To  kill  a  victim  new. 
(Then  all  the  FLIES  line  up  again  and  the  FIFTH  FLY  speaks.) 

FIFTH  FLY: 

I  carry  a  germ,  my  weapon  germ, 

That  kills  the  race  of  man ; 
I  flit  around  his  dwelling  place, 

And  kill  him  when  I  can. 
I  have  a  germ,  a  cruel  germ 

I  carry  day  by  day. 
That  makes  man  cough,  and  cough,  and  cough. 

And  cough  his  life  away; 
It  is  the  small  consumption  germ. 

That  hangs  upon  my  feet, 
And  can  be  found  on  my  mouth  too; 

That  I  give  man  I  meet. 
ALL  FLIES: 

(While  circling  as  before.) 

We  love  to  see  him  suffer  so, 

Because  of  dread  disease; 
And  when  we  see  his  comfort  grow. 

We  try  to  break  his  ease 


15 

By  buzzing  all  around  his  head, 

And  lighting  on  his  face, 
And  tickling  him  when  on  his  bed, 
He  makes  his  resting  place. 
(Then  all  the  FLIES  line  up  again,  and  the  SIXTH  FLY  speaks.) 
nXTH  FLY: 

I  carry  my  germs,  my  weapon  germs, 

That  kill  the  race  of  man; 
I  flit  around  his  dwelling  place. 

And  kill  him  when  I  can. 
I  carry  each  and  every  germ. 

All  germs  of  other  flies; 
And  when  man  gets  my  fateful  germs, 

He  nearly  always  dies. 
So  thus  I  fly  from  place  to  place, 

And  do  what  harm  I  will ; 
And  always  try  whene'er  I  may, 
My  mission  to  fulfill. 

\LL  FLIES: 

(Repeat  while  circling  as  before.) 

So  you  see  we  do  our  work  full  well, 

And  spread  our  germs  around; 
We  get  our  germs  out  of  the  filth, 

Man  spreads  upon  the  ground ; 
We  live  our  lives  from  day  to  day, 

And  sing  in  buzzing  glee; 
And  scatter  germs  along  the  way. 
And  rollick  playfully. 
(They  stop  marching  and  they  mix  up  in  a  group.) 
FIRST  FLY: 
Comrades!  why  stay  here  longer  to  waste  away  our 

time 
Tellihg  all  the  evil  things  we  do  at  will ; 
For  one  that  talks  unceasingly,  beware  of  him; 
And  he  that  speaks  in  spicy  language  of 
All  things  he  has  succeeded  in,  and  then 
Puffs  up  his  chest  and  tells  what  he  will  do; 
Befriend  him  not.    Idle  not  away  the  time 


16 

That*s  given  us  by  glibly  talking  to 

The  silent  wood;  but  let  us  hence — hence  to 

The  den — where  Death  will  meet  us,  and 

We  shall  receive  the  good  advice  of  our 

Good  master  spirit;  and  also  shall  we  find 

Our  friend  the  Witch,  and  she  will  help  us  with 

Her  evil  will,  while  she  doth  dance  about 

The  Cauldron  near, 

And  spit  upon  the  fire  in  a  rage  of  fear. 

FOURTH  FLY: 

Ha!  ha!  our  trusty  brother  speaks  full  well  the  truth. 
So  let  us  on  and  soon  assemble  there 
At  dark,  damp  cave  in  forest  glade, 
Where  soon  our  captain  spirits  shall  arrive, 
And  bid  us  well  the  way  that  we  should  wend. 

SECOND  FLY : 

Thou  speakest  well,  so  let  us  on  away — 
Pluck  forth  ourselves  from  daily  light  of  sun 
Unto  the  deep,  dark  shades  of  the  forest  fair, 
Where  no  one  mortal  ever  passes  by 
To  gaze  upon  our  homely  countenance: 
And  there — if  we  wish  to  waste  fast  away 
Our  given  time — let's  be  in  readiness 
For  both  our  masters. 

SIXTH  FLY: 

For  surely  if  our  masters,  good  and  brave. 

Should  come  upon  ourselves  assembled  here; 

At  least  the  Witch  would  kindle  fast  her  wrath ; 

And  curse  us  well  while  sitting  on  the  ground ; 

Even  if  our  demon  Death  shall  not  give  'way 

To  such — so  let  us  on. 

(All  start  to  left  of  stage.) 
FIRST  FLY: 

We'll  converse  further  on  the  matter 

While  forth  we  from  this  place  away. 

And  too,  there  are  of  other  things  that  we 

Shall  contemplate  while  waiting  at  the  'pointed  place. 


17 

(EXIT,  while  talking.     ENTER  DEATH,  appears  as  a  ghost,  from  the 
right.) 

DEATH : 

Man  by  man,  I  follow  with  my  clutching  hand, 

Each  and  every  man  I  follow  with  my  shadow  self; 

My  multitudinous  self  far  outnumbers  all 

The  faithless  race  of  evildoing  man ; 

So  therefore  do  I  follow  each,  and  sometimes  two 

Of  me  do  follow  one,  that  may  the  surer  grasp 

The  victim  to  the  kingdom-come. 

I  come  from  deep, dark,  depth  of  ocean  cave, 

Where  ocean  Time  laps  up  the  eons  on  the  globe  of  man. 

And  often  Ihere  I  sit,  with  everlasting  Time 

A-washing  'round  my  feet — and  often  will  I  sit — 

For  times  eternal  from  the  depths  of  yet  to  come, 

And  sing  myself  into  an  imitation  sleep 

With  my  ever-dreary,  weird  and  lonely  song: 

"The  race  of  Man  moves  on,  moves  on, 
But  the  race  of  the  Dead  stands  still; 

For  the  race  of  Man  joins  the  race  of  Dead 
With  his  everlasting  will ; 

The  race  of  Dead  can  never  die. 
So  tries  to  kill,  to  kill. 

"Ha !  the  race  of  Man  must  sleep,  must  sleep, 

On  a  couch  so  soft  and  warm ; 
But  the  race  of  Dead  need  never  sleep 

So  walks  on  the  raging  storm ; 
And  always  haunts  a  dreary  place ; 

In  vacant  place  we  swarm. 

"The  race  of  Dead  lives  on,  lives  on. 

For  the  race  can  never  die; 
And  to  its  ever  growing  ranks 

The  race  of  Man  must  fly; 
Out  of  the  world  of  work  and  pain. 

It  comes  with  grunt  and  sigh. 


18 

"So  we,  the  Dead,  do  haunt,  do  haunt,  . 

And  clutch  from  land  and  sea, 
The  race  of  Man  as  they  go  by, 

And  try  from  us  to  flee ; 
At  night  and  day,  we  haunt  and  flay 

The  dead  that  are  to  be." 

So  thus  I  sing  while  sitting  on  a  stool, 

An  imitation  stool,  and  contemplate 

More  monstrous  means  by  which  I  can  diminish 

The  boisterous  race  of  ever  flippant  man. 

I  have  now  set  afloat  upon  the  sea 

Of  circumstance  a  new  and  wondrous  scheme 

By  which  I  may  inflict  upon  the  race 

Of  man  more  deadly  things,  and  quickly  put 

An  end  unto  his  ever  woeful  way. 

I  will  this  day  at  the  appointed  hour 

Meet  at  the  given  place,  my  humble  servants; 

And  there  shall  we  discuss,  and  I  instruct, 

Them  to  proceed  hereafter  in  accordance  with 

My  new  and  contemplated  plan — which  is: 

To  make  the  sad  state  of  human  man,  more  sad. 

And  make  him  bow  down  low  unto  his  master. 

Death !  who,  by  the  Gods,  is  far  more  awful 

Than  inexperienced  mind  of  man  can  make  him  out 

to  be; 
Ha!  Ha!     I — the  stinging,  cruel,  and  envious  Death — 
That  held  his  reign  in  the  ever-has-been  here-to-fore. 
And  who  shall  hold  his  reign  in  the  everlasting  here- 
to-after. 
So  day  by  day  shall  I  devise  new  schemes 
By  which  to  snatch  man  from  his  pleasure  place; 
And  shall  invoke  the  Gods  and  thrust  upon, 
(By  underhanded  means)  him  dire  distress, 
And  new  eternal  banishment  from  all 
The  pleasures  of  the  bygone  days.     I  should 
Not  tarry  here  much  longer  in 
This  sunlit  place,  lest  I  should  come  in  late 
Unto  our  meeting;  where  good  and  graciously 


19 

Some  servant  flies  will  be,  accompanied  by 
My  ever-eager  colleague — Witch — so  I 
Will  on — but  what!    What  have  we  here? 

(ENTER  WITCH.) 

Ha!  ha! 
Speak  of  the  Devil  and  he  will  appear; 

"  So  seemeth  it  with  witches,  too ; 
But  hold — for  something  must  the  matter  be, 
For  she  does  stagger, — and  is  circling  there, — 
And  now  a  few  low  rumblings  issue  forth 
From  out  Iver  mouth,  such  ghastly  smattery 
Of  raging  guttural  sounds,  my  meatless  ear 
Has  never  heard  before  as  rage  now  here. 
It  must  be  one  grand  dire  calamity 
That  haunts  her  mind  and  haunts  her  body  so! 

.  Thus  will  I  step  in  shadow  of  a  tree 
And  try  as  best  I  can  to  soon  perceive  the  blow. 
That  has  so  suddenly  bereft  her  mind ; 
I  will  not  speak,  but  hide  a  moment  here 
And  cause  of  all  disturbance,  try  to  find. 

WITCH: 

I  fear  the  day  of  Death  is  done, 

When  Death  may  roam  at  will ; 
For  all  his  dangers  made  of  late 

Have  been  reduced  to  nil. 
Curses  on  the  cussed  race. 

That  roams  the  old  world  o'er! 
Vd  like  to  chase  it  on  apace. 

And  knock  it  out  before 
It  gets  beyond  the  old  control 

That's  held  by  Death  and  I; 
Ah !  one  grand  thing  must  now  be  done 

Before  the  chance  goes  by. 

Oh !  the  way  the  daily  toll  has  fallen  oft'  of  late ; 
Oh!  Death  does  not  know  all  the  evil  process 
That  fight  in  unison  against  his  brave  demands. 

(DEATH  trembles  and  shakes.) 


20 

Tho  Death  does  thunder  from  eternal  depths 

Of  everlasting  time — he  cannot  touch  a  mortal  soul; 

With  all  his  will — and  dominating  spirit  self; 

So  therefore  must  he  needs  seek  other  means 

To  inflict  well  his  duty  upon  man, 

And  so  has  he  incorporated  well 

The  race  of  filthy  flies  to  do  his  dirty  work 

Unto  the  globe  trotters  of  mortal  mould. 

But  now  the  mortal  man  has  risen  high — 

Above  the  high  ideals  of  disastrous  Death! 

Come  on,  ye  demons  of  the  deep,  welcojne  home. 

And  take  me  back  to  evil  Chaos  dark 

All  wrapped  in  nothingness — from  whence  I  sprung, 

To  die, — from  living  death,  to  real  death,  unwelcomed, 
unsung. 
(WITCH  sways,  nearly  falls.     DEATH  shouts  and  springs  forward.) 
DEATH: 

Explain  thyself^ — my  partner  of  the  past — 

Oh!  may  we  ever  work  in  union  and  in  strength. 

Explain,  Oh!  Witty  Witch!  with  superhuman  powers, 

(WITCH   falls.) 

Tell  me  the  sad  catastrophe  that  overruns  thy  being! 

(WITCH  is  as  dead.) 

Forbid,  ye  spirit  Gods,  that  fill  the  never-ending  space 
Of  infinite  Universe,  far  out  beyond  the  stars. 
Let  not  my  partner  sink  to  everlasting  pit 
Of  less  than  nothingness ! 

(Looks  on  WITCH.) 

Hah !  rise  once  more. 
(Kneels  by  WITCH.) 

Oh !  Thanks!  I  humble  down  myself  to  thee 
Grand, — faultless  Gods — from  times  long  before  time, 
To  times  that  follow  after  ends  of  time : 
Ye  great — that  hold  your  reign  long  after 
Everlasting  space  comes  to  an  end,  and  crumbles  into 
dust. 


21 
I  bow — 

(WITCH  partly  rises  and  takes  hold  of  DEATH.) 

Oh !  let  me  help  thee  up,  my  lady  fair. 
What  aileth  of  your  toughened  heart  or  weary  mind 
To  so  give  way,  and  fall  unto  the  ground? 

WITCH  : 

Yea!  help  me  up — give  me  but  a  little  time — 
Until  the  mood  pass  on — I  will  explain — 
The  full  and  sad  catastrophe — which  hath  befell 
Of  late,  the  wondrous  work  of  you  and  me. 

DEATH : 

Pleased  I  be  that  you  did  not  turn  off  just  then. 

And  cash  thyself  unto  the  nothing  evermore ; 

For  I — tho  Death  can  never  die,  even  after  goes 

The  firmament  into  a  rustless  dust. 

Would  have  a  full  slim  chance  to  make  the  things 

Come  soon  to  pass,  which  I  have  always  willed. 

WITCH: 

Yes,  Death,  I  fear  your  powers  are  becoming 
Limited.    With  all  your  grand  command 
Of  all  ethereal  space,  the  man  of  this 
Small  globe,  will  henceforth  baffle  you. 

DEATH: 

Speak  plain,  O  Witch ;  explain  this  openly. 
Speak  not  so,  and  dodge  around  the  bush — 
Tell  it  clear — I  am  ready  to  receive 
A  hopeless  answer.    For  if  the  heavy  facts 
Do  make  you  stagger — and  to  fall — then  I 
Am  ready  now  to  do  the  same — speak  out! 

WITCH: 

The  fact  is  this:  Your  unknown  enemy. 
Science  has  come  forth  suddenly  to  buffet  all 
Our  ways;  he  has  become,  as  I  have  found 
This  morn,  far  stronger  in  his  methods  than 
Have  we;  and  more; — I  fear  the  faithful  flies 


22 

That  are  about  can  help  us  little  more 
In  future  times. 

DEATH: 

So  true  as  that!  Ye  Gods! 
What  full  calamity ! 

WITCH: 

Full  true  as  that. 
And  at  some  future  time  may  truer  be ! 

DEATH : 

But  say — I  think  we  should  not  give  away 

These  facts  unto  the  flies.     Let's  keep  it  from 

Them  for  a  little  space  of  time,  until 

We  launch  a  large  last  scheme,  to  overcome 

The  blazing  faculties  of  our  new-found 

Science — but  hold ! 

Suppose  we  try  with  all  our  lusty  power, 

This  Science  soon  to  kill? 

WITCH : 

That  can't  be  done — 
And  sorry  am  I  that  to  say.    It  can't 
Be  done — and  this  is  truly  why: 
This  Science  is  the  product  of  the  work 
Of  man,  and  now.  Science,  result  of  man, 
Now  man  protects ;  you  cannot  now  kill  Science, 
Without  you  first  kill  man,  and  man  you  cannot  kill. 
For  Science  now  forbids,  and  has  great  weapons  to 
Back  up  his  bidding;  so  you  see  you  cannot  kill  Science 
Without  first  killing  man,  and  cannot  man. 
For  Science  holds  you  off! 

DEATH: 

So  seemeth  it 
To  be  a  big  and  healthy  problem  now 
To  solve.    But  when  we  meet  our  wilful  flies 
We  will  not  part  to  them  the  knowledge  you 
Have  learned ;  but  put  before  them  one  grand  scheme. 
Which  we  will  try — lose  out — or  fully  win. 


23 


WITCH : 

You  speak  quite  well — for  ignorance  is  bliss; 
And  they  can  go  ahead, — less  likely  far  to  miss. 

DEATH: 

What  say  you  now,  to  on  unto  the  place 
Where  we  will  meet  our  friends  and  there  impart 
A  new  and  brilliant  scheme,  which  we  will  plan 
Before  we  reach  appointed  destination? 

WITCH: 

So  we  will  on.    We  have  already  run 

Far  o'er  our  'pointed  time — 

And  they  will  wonder  what  the  trouble  is. 

DEATH : 

They  may  suspicion  something  from  our  late 
Arrival ;  but  let  not  the  wrinkles  of 
Your  toughened  face  disclose  these  things  upon 
Your  countenance;  And  I — my  fleshless  bones 
Shall  not  disclose  a  blush. 

WITCH : 

Right  well  'tis  spoken — 
For  we  will  keep  it  down,  at  least  until 
Some  future  time. 

DEATH : 

So  let  us  move  along. 


(CURTAIN) 


24 


SCENE  II. 

(Within  a  dark  cave — entrance  to  cave  at  right  of  stage. 

The  Witch's  Cauldron  near  back  of  cave  next  to  the 

rocks.) 

(All  six  FLIES  are  present.) 
FIRST  FLY  : 

Right  glad  I  am,  our  masters  are  not  here ; 
For  if  they  should  have  been,  we  surely  would 
Receive  a  good  and  scorching  scolding  for 
Stopping  on  the  way. 

ALL  FLIES: 

Me  too! — And  so  am  I! — Luck  follows  us! 
FIRST  FLY: 

But  say!  My  brothers  dear;  changing  not  a  little 
The  subject  which  you  now  pursue ;  I  ran  across 
But  yesterday,  a  strange  and  new  experience, 
Whose  subsequent  and  fatal  consequences,  may. 
Before  an  old  moon  passes,  affect  us  seriously. 

FIFTH  FLY: 

That  sounds  strange  and  interesting,  when  you 
Have  finished  soon  your  odd  experience,  I  will 
Then  out  with  mine.     Proceed! 

FIRST  FLY.: 

I  had  been  flittering  fast  from  place  to  place. 
And  honestly  was  tired  when  the  sun 
Was  wallowing  in  the  murky  mist  along 
The  western  edge  of  globe,  so  settled  down 
And  rested  on  a  can,  which  was,  I  swear, 
Cast  out  of  wealthy  house  of  mortal  near. 
While  resting  there  and  supping  from  the  juice 
That  filled  the  inside  surface  o'er,  and  gathering 
The  germs  that  also  fed  upon  the  last 


25 

Remains,  there  sprang  out  tall,  from  under  cover  there, 

A  monster  sembling  a  mortal  shape, 

And  cast  around  a  spray  of  stinging  stuff, 

The  most  of  which  grazed  o'er  my  head,  but  some 

Small  bits  did  light  upon  my  cheek,  which  you 

Do  see  the  sad  remains  thereof. 

(Shows  it  to  other  FLIES.) 

ALL  FLIES: 

Oh !  my ! 
We'll  look  at  that!  Well,  Well. 

FOURTH  FLY: 

That  I  perceived 
Some  little  time  before,  but  hadn't  had 
The  time  to  question  you  concerning  it. 

FIRST  FLY: 

I  do  not  see  what  monster  did  the  deed ; 
And  more  than  that,  I  never  yet  have  heard 
Before  of  single  fly  of  all  our  lusty  race 
To  whom  the  sad  displeasure  has  befell 
Before. 

FIFTH  FLY: 

It  sure  is  new  and  strange,  but  mine,  ■ 
As  I  will  show,  is  more  so. 

SECOND  FLY 

Mine  is  just  as  bad. 
FIRST  FLY: 

Did  you  have  some  such  thing  befall? 
SECOND  FLY: 

I  did! 
THIRD  FLY:       , 

And  so  did  I ! 
SIXTH  FLY: 

Mine  was  not  as  bad. 
But  I  may  say  that  it  was  bad  enough  for  me. 


26 

FOURTH  FLY : 

I  saw  nor  heard  the  whole  long  day  of  anything  un- 
usual, 
But  everything  proceeded  as  they  have  been  here-to- 
fore. 
But  go  ahead,  I  will  be  glad  to  hear 
The  new  queer  happenings  so  that  I  may 
The  earmarks  of  their  fateful  cause  the  better  to 
Perceive,  and  flee  fast  from  the  foul  result. 

FIFTH  FLY: 

Mine  sure  was  rash.     While  I  and  many  of 

My  number  that  collect  the  small  consumption  germs, 

Were  working  hard  out  in  the  filthy  street, 

In  heat  of  day,  to  gather  all  we  could 

Of  dangerous  germs  from  sputum  lying  there, 

'Twas  not  unlike  you  say,  my  trusty  brother, 

Before  we  were  aware  a  monster  had 

Appeared,  and  when  I  saw  I  fled, — but  all 

The  others  were  too  late,  and  died  as  the 

Result,  for  when  I  passed  quite  high  above 

The  place  a  little  later,  I  saw  stretched  wide 

Upon  the  ground  all  my  good  kin ;  and  all 

Across  their  backs  were  large  scars  such  as  you 

Have  on  your  face. 

FIRST  FLY : 

It  must  be  something  that 
Is  trying  now  to  wage  a  bloody  war 
Against  our  faultless  kind, — the  evil  beast! 

SECOND  FLY: 

While  I  was  in  a  house  but  yesterday, 
And  was  a-buzzing  'round  a  child's  face, 
That  lay  upon  a  couch,  with  several  of 
My  typhoid  fever  friends  with  me ;  I  saw 
A  monster  creeping  o'er  the  floor,  so  I 
Flew  off  on  to  the  wall,  and  while  at  rest 
And  looking  back  unto  my  colleagues  that 
Still  sat  upon  the  bed,  I  saw  a  large 


27 

Flat  something  come  a-swooping  down  and  crush 
My  partners  sitting  there.    I  buzzed  myself 
Away  as  fast  as  ever  could  outside, 
And  then  across  the  field,  with  saltless  tear  in  eye. 

FOURTH  FLY: 

How  strange  it  is  that  you  so  suddenly  of 
Late  have  been  attacked  by  a  strange 
And  monstrous  creature  that  most  surely  means 
To  have  no  good  intention. 

FIRST  FLY: 

And  so  it  is. 
Now  let  us  hear  a  word  from  you,  our  good 
And  faithful  tonsilitis  friend. 

THIRD  FLY: 

I  was 
Upon  my  way  to  meet  some  of  our  lusty  brothers 
That  take  along  with  them  the  tonsilitis  germs 
That  are  so  plentiful,  and  when  I  reached 
What  would  have  been  our  meeting  place,  I  saw 
One  monster  demon  filling  all  the  air 
With  poisonous  gas;  this  superman  did  grind 
And  groan  some  fierce  infernal  mechanism 
Which  issued  forth  an  evil  scent,  that  filled 
The  air  around;  and  one  small  speck  did  make 
Me  stagger.     Then  I  saw  all  of  my  good 
And  faithful  helpers  lying  on  the  ground, 
With  all  their  husky  legs  fast  kicking  in 
The  atmosphere;  so  turned  I  on  my  wings 
And  fled  in  air  away.    Then  five  times  more 
I  tried  to  go  back  there  again  to  take 
One  long,  last  look  upon  the  pale  visages 
Of  my  unlucky  partners  on  the  ground. 
But  could  not  there  arrive  because  of  all 
The  evil  odor  that  still  hung  in  air. 

FIFTH  FLY: 

It  sure  does  look  as  tho  the  same  one  beast 
Was  doing  all  the  damage  to  our  race. 


28 

FIRST  FLY: 

Yes!     I  feel  that  we  should  well  inform 
Our  dominating  masters  with  these  facts; 
And  may  be  they  can  give  us  good  advice, 
And  help  us  overcome  the  unknown  enemy. 
And  by  my  word,  if  this  keeps  up  much  more 
Our  whole  large  race  will  come  unto  an  end. 

SIXTH  FLY: 

Well,  I  will  say  that  it  is  not  a  joke. 
For  yester-eve  when  traveling  o*er  my  route 
I  saw  in  many  places  where  our  numbers 
Were  accustomed  to  assemble,  great  numbers 
Of  our  kind  all  dead,  and  lying  'round 
And  there  was  not  one  living  lying  there 
That  could  inform  me  of  the  cause, — so  I 
Went  on,  and  soon  I  saw  the  demon  near 
Of  which  you  have  spoken,  demolishing 
The  swarms  of  trusty  flies.    As  soon  as  I 
Was  sure  the  end  he  did  pursue,  I  flew 
Away. 

FIRST  FLY: 

And  so  it  is  when  we  get  on 
Our  way  to  great  prosperity,  and  get 
A  larger  toll  of  mortal  man  as  days 
Go  on,  then  comes  a  great,  grand  enemy 
To  kill  all  of  us  off,  and  thus  prohibit  us 
From  aiding  Death  to  ravage  fast  the  race 
Of  man  and  bring  it  to  an  end. 

FOURTH  FLY: 

It  sure 
Looks  hopeless  now  for  us  at  least  'tis  so ; 
For  nothing  in  our  lowly  power  can  help 
Destroy  this  fierce,  and  large  Satanic  monster. 
From  whence  he  sprung,  it  will  not  be  within 
Our  tiny  brain  to  grasp ;  so  all  that  we 
Can  do  is  get  our  masters  on  his  trail. 
And  then  await  inevitable  consequences. 


29 

SIXTH  FLY: 

Tis  growing  late.    Our  masters  should  have  been 

Here  long  ago.    In  prior  times  they  have 

Been  here  long  before  we ;  but  now  they  are 

Not  here.    We  used  to  come  in  late,  and  now. 

We  come  in  later  than  before,  and  talk 

A  good  long  time,  and  still  they  do  not  bring 

Themselves. 

FIRST  FLY: 

They  should  have  been  here  long  before. 
I  grant  you  that.    But  still  you  should  not  hold 
It  much  against  them  just  for  being  late 

(THIRD  FLY  goes  toward  the  door.) 
But  once — for  think  how  many  times  we  tripped 
Our  toes  across  the  threshold  there,  and  to 
Be  late. 

THIRD  FLY: 

Here  they  come  now.    But  come  you  here 
Each  one  of  you !    See  how  the  witch  does  stagger,  and 
Now  nearly  fall. 

FOURTH  FLY: 

I  wonder  what  it  is 
Which  ails  her?     I  never  saw  her  so  before! 

SECOND  FLY: 
Nor  I! 

OTHER  FLIES: 

Nor  I!  Not  I!  I  neither! 

THIRD  FLY 

Let's  back, — away  from  entrance  here,  for  it 

Might  not  be  best  to  let  ihem  see  us  here 

All  looking  on  with  fuzzy  mouths  agape ! 

Back!  Back!  Let's  spread  around.     Pretend  that  you 

Have  not  seen  anything. 

FIRST  FLY: 

That  is  the  best 


30 

That  we  can  do,  let  not  your  fuzzy  face 
Disclose  that  which  we  know  to  be  behind 
The  mask! 

FIFTH  FLY: 

We'll  follow  the  instruction  well ; 
For  we  are  used  to  that! 

FOURTH  FLY: 

Right  well  we  will. 
THIRD  FLY: 

Be  talking  to  each  other,  and  when  they  enter 

We'll  hail  them  loud! 

ALL  FLIES: 

We  will.     Be  talking  now! 

(They  gather  In  groups  and  whisper  among  themselves.    DEATH  and 
WITCH  ENTER.) 

THIRD  FLY:  * 

Hello,  good  masters! 

SECOND  FLY: 

Good  morning,  Witch ! 
SIXTH  FLY: 

And  how  are  both  my  masters,  Death  and  W^itch? 
ALL  FLIES: 

All  hail :     Fare  thee  well,  both !     Good  morning,  both ! 
FIRST  FLY: 

We  have  been  waiting  for  your  majesties, 

And  welcome  all  the  good  advice  which  we 

May  gain  from  you. 

DEATH : 

Thanks  to  you  all,  for  all 
Your  thoughtful  questions.    We  are  both  indeed 
Full  well  and  fine  this  morning  clear,  and  for 
Me,  I  am  nimble  as  in  times  long  past 
Before  the  first  of  time.    Yes  I  am  well, 
And  happy  grown  of  late.    How  are  you  all? 


31 

I  pray  that  you  will  do  well  with  all  your  work. 
SIXTH  FLY: 

Oh !  Master,  dear,  we  all  are  in  distress, 

For  yesterday — for  yesterday  when  all  about  our  work 

Most  of  our  jocund  company, 

Has  met  with  fearful  enemy! 

(WITCH  works  about  the  cauldron.) 

DEATH  (excited)  : 

And  what 
Is  that  you  say? 

FIRST  FLY: 

We  had  strange  things  befall! 
FIFTH  FLY: 

Many  of  our  faithful  number  have 
Been  killed! 

FOURTH  FLY: 

Yes,  of  all  our  good  assistants 
A  goodly  sum  are  dead! 

FIRST  FLY: 

See  not  scar  on  my  face? 

DEATH : 

Of  all  the  freakish  horrors ! 
It  is  a  farce ! 

ALL  FLIES: 

Nay !  No !  It  is  not  so ! 
We  tell  the  truth !  It  is  an  actual  fact!. 
We  lie  not!    Truly,  master!    It  is  so! 

THIRD  FLY: 

A  strange  and  monstrous  demon  sure  has  wrought 
The  dirty  deed. 

DEATH: 

Speak  not  of  it,  I  will 
Not  hear. 


32 

SIXTH  FLY: 

But  all  our  race  will  perish  soon 
Without  your  aid. 

FIRST  FLY: 

Look  at  my  face, — I  just 

Escaped! 
FIFTH  FLY: 

Those  dead  are  numberless,  of  all 
Our  trusty  kind. 

DEATH 

Hear  me !     Speak  thus  of  idle  dreams 
No  longer.     . 

FIRST  FLY: 

Can  you  not  see  this  yourself? 

FOURTH  FLY: 

This  grand  big  sacrifice  has  all  been  made 
While  they  were  doing  work  as  you  had  bid. 

DEATH: 

Did  you  not  hear  me?     Hush!     Is  not  that  my 
Command?     Say  not  another  word  pertaining  to 
(WITCH  still  working  by  the  cauldron.) 

The  matter.     Now  my  friend,  tlie  Witch,  and  I, 
Will  put  to  you  a  new  and  certain  plan 
By  which  you  will  be  able  now  to  do 
Far  greater  work  in  each  and  every  day. 
Than  you  have  ever  done  before. 

SECOND  FLY:  . 

Can  we 
Win  o'er  the  monster  that  has  passed  us  all 
By  his  methodic  means? 

DEATH: 

I  told  you  not 
To  mention  it  again,  I  will  not  list  to  you. 

(Turns  to  the  other  FLIES.) 


33 

Each  one  shall  do  his  work  full  well 
This  afternoon;  after  good  instruction. 

(WITCH  has  a  fire.) 

The  Witch  will  now  address  you.    Follow  close 
Her  good  and  rare  instruction. 

ALL  FLIES: 

Aye !    We  will ! 
DEATH : 

We  must  make  one 

Grand  harvest  for  today;  so  let  yourselves 

Go  loose  with  all  your  hatred  for  the  mortal  kind; 

You  do  your  work  full  well?     Hear  me? 

ALL  FLIES: 

We  do! 
We  can  obey  command.    We  all  will  do 
Our  best! 

DEATH : 

But  look!  The  Witch  will  now  dispose 
Of  more  advice!    So  prick  your  ears  not  slightly  for 
You  must  receive  it  all ! 

(WITCH  mumbles  and  spits  on  fire.) 

WITCH: 

I  give  you  luck  with  all  my  power 

By  spitting  on  the  fire  here; 
So  when  you  go  on  your  mission, 

You  need  not  have  a  single  fear. 
Fear  not  the  flashing  lightning, 

Nor  the  thunder's  heavy  roll ; 
Do  your  work  to  right,  and  leftward. 

Heap  up  fast  the  daily  toll. 
Stop  not  once  for  falling  raindrops 

Tho  they  hit  you  on  the  wings; 
Tend  you  strictly  to  your  business, 

Kill  thick  and  fast  the  mortal  things. 
Do  your  duty  every  minute. 


34 

Go  you  each  to  every  human, 

Put  your  germs  about  him  thick ; 
Fly  across  the  meadows  bloomin' 

To  man  there  and  make  him  sick. 
Stop  not  once  for  sun  or  thunder, 
Not  for  rain  or  rainbow  bowing; 
Flit  yourself  in,  out,  and  under, 

Mindless  of  the  fast  wind  blowing. 
Make  the  harvest  rich  and  heavy, 

Bigger  now  than  e'er  before ; 
Make  the  tax  be  large  you  levy. 
DEATH : 

Did  each  of  you  get  all  that  she  has  said? 
Let  not  the  scorching  sun  in  midday  hold 
You  from  your  work ;  nor  likewise  let  the  rain. 
Or  thunder  crashing  stop  you  on  your  work 
Today.     Your  habit  has  been  heretofore 
To  settle  in  some  sheltered  place  when  storm 
Comes  up,  but  now  let  not  your  hearts  have  fear, 
Even  if  the  rain  should  pour  in  torrents  down. 
ALL  FLIES: 

We  bow  and  then  obey! 
(While  hobbling  around  the  cauldron,  the  WITCH  speaks  in  ghastly 
accent.) 

WITCH 

Do  your  mission  every  hour, 

Spread  your  genns  so  thick  and  fast; 
Fly  o'er  hill,  in  valley  bower. 

Scatter  them  as  you  go  past. 
Fly  both  up  and  down  the  river. 

O'er  the  meadow  and  the  plain; 
Make  you  every  mortal  quiver. 

Give  each  one  his  dose  of  pain. 
Tarry  not  around  his  dwelling 

Longer  than  to  give  to  him, 
Each  of  you  your  own  good  swelling. 

When  you  find  a  mortal  sleeping. 
On  a  couch  of  his  devise, 


35 


Slip  you  slow  upon  him,  creeping, 

Using  ever  all  your  eyes; 
Then  spread  germs  upon  his  fingers, 

And  upon  his  greedy  lips; 
And  if  as  yet  no  danger  lingers 

Crawl  upon  the  food  he  sips, 
Planting  there  as  fast  as  ever 

All  the  germs  you  have  with  you ; 
Stay  not  any  longer, — never! 

My  best  wishes  follow  you; 
Death  himself  will  too  watch  o'er  you, 

And  in  danger  help  you  thru. 
Now  I  cast  into  the  cauldron. 

Many  magic  means  whereby 
You  may  better  do  your  duty. 

When  on  gauzy  wings  you  fly; 
In  there  goes  a  four-leaf  clover. 

That  will  help  you  on  your  way; 
Now  there  goes  a  half  of  horse-shoe, 

To  support  you  thru  the  day; 
Ah !  here  goes  a  beak  of  buzzard 

That  did  die  in  desert  place. 
It  will  aid  you  thru  the  time  that 

You  cannot  a  danger  face ; 
Here  goes  tooth  of  brigh-eyed  batling 

Found  in  dark  and  dreary  cave. 
It  will  work  in  union  with  you. 

When  you  fight  against  a  knave. 
Now  I  throw  in  wing  of  hopper 

Found  decaying  in  the  grass ; 
Its  good  magic  will  surround  you 

When  you  near  some  danger  pass. 
One  big  old  scale  of  a  lizard. 

One  bright  eye  of  poisoned  snake, 
They  will  help  when  fear  attacks  you 

And  your  legs  begin  to  shake; 
Here  I  cast  a  toe  of  rabbit. 

That  will  follow  near  and  far. 
And  prevent  an  unknown  danger 


36 

Coming  close  to  where  you  are ; 
Now  drop  feather  of  an  owlet, 

Found  up  in  a  hollow  tree 
Down  into  the  bubbling  mixture, 

It  will  aid  to  keep  ypu  free 
From  the  low  results  of  ignorance. 

It  will  help  to  make  you  wise 
When  you  must  give  good  decision, 

Tho  you  may  be  small  in  size. 
Now  cast  foot  of  humming  bird. 

That  will  make  good  weather  follow 
In  and  out,  when  on  your  way 

You  are  flitting  in  a  hollow ; 
Here  now  goes  the  last  remains 

Of  a  moth — a  dusty  miller, 
So  when  you  an  aged  woman 

See  with  eyes, — 'twill  help  to  kill  'er. 
So  they  bubble,  steam  and  bubble 

On  the  magic  heating  fire; 
Boil,  steam  and  faster  bubble 

While  up  I  fill  it  higher. 
Here  goes  stone  from  fleeting  deer's  heart. 

It  will  hold  you  close  together. 
When  you  might  have  wished  to  part ; 

Here  I  add  an  eagle's  feather. 
I  have  done  and  will  keep  doing. 

All  that  is  within  my  power 
To  keep  away  all  dangers  brewing. 

At  right  minute,  and  right  hour! 
DEATH : 

So  now  you  have  received  a  goodly  sum 
Of  all  the  things  that  you  should  do. 

ALL  FLIES: 

We  have  received  it  well!  , 

DEATH: 

I  see  you  have. 
So  get  you  hence — but  hold!     Before  you  leave 
Our  meeting  place,  I  will  instruct 


37 

You  just  a  little  further,  tho  I  can 

Not  add,  and  would  for  times  eternal  not  detract 

From  all  the  noble  good  advice  just  given  you. 

By  faithful  Witch,  I  will  just  say;  Remember  all 

That  she  has  said,  and  see  you  to  it  that  each 

And  every  one  of  you  obey !     It  was 

The  best  instruction  ever  given 

Unto  your  kind;  so  get  you  hence!     Depart! 

And  sure  obey  all  good  commands! 

ALL  FLIES: 

We  will! 
Surely!  Truly!  We  will  remember  all! 
We  will  instructions  follow !    We  surely  will ! 
Aye!  Aye!  You  can  trust  us! 

FIRST  FLY: 

We  always  do 
That  which  is  bid  us. 

THIRD  FLY : 

Good-bye,  master  dear! 
SIXTH  FLY : 

Good-bye,  we  will  remember! 

FOURTH  FLY: 

Fare  thee  v/ell ! 
(FLIES  now   going  out  the  entrance) 
SECOND  FLY: 

You  can  trust  us  each  and  every  one ! 
FIFTH  FLY: 

Sure,  we  will  do  our  best;  and  truly  you 
Cannot  do  better,  even  tho  you  have 
All  superhuman  powers  of  mystic  spac^. 

DEATH : 

You  are  all  good  and  faithful.     Good-bye!  Fare 
You  well ! 

(EXIT  all  FLIES.) 

Ha!  ha!  my  trusty  Witch,  we  have 


38 

At  last  launched  them  upon  the  one 

Last  chance  to  gain  back  all  the  powers  we  have 

Lost  upon  this  cussed  globe !     Did  you  not  see 

The  way  I  hushed  them  when  I  did  perceive 

That  they  did  wish  to  so  inform  me  with 

The  facts  about  this  Science  of  which  I  knew 

Too  well  from  all  your  explanation? 

WITCH  : 

I  was  not  blind  or  deaf,  tho  I  was  here 

At  work  around  the  fire.    You  have  the  system,  Death. 

It  was  a  wise  decision  for  your  empty  skull 

To  not  let  them  impart  the  news  which  they 

Received  by  their  own  sad  experience. 

DEATH : 

They  sure  have  met  this  fearful  Science,  for 
One  trusty  had  upon  his  hairy  face 
An  ugly  scar.    Did  you  perceive? 

WITCH  : 

I  did! 
For  when  I  heard  him  speak  of  it,  I  saw 
It  thru  the  corner  of  my  eye. 

DEATH : 

They  all 
Did  seem  to  know  about  this  Science  great. 
I  now  suppose  that  they  held  converse  on 
The  matter  while  awaiting  our  arrival. 
How  do  you  feel  now? 

WITCH: 

As  well  as  ever. 
But  just'  before  I  got  unto  this  place 
I  sure  was  faint,  as  you  already  know. 

DEATH : 

And  so  it  be. 
WITCH: 

We  have  now  launched  our  great 

And  final  plan.    And  it  must  fail,  or  it 


39 

Must  fast  succeed;  tho  I  have  in  my  mind 
A  sneaky  feeling  that  it  shall  follow  fast 
The  former. 

DEATH : 

It  is  the  best  that  we  can  do. 
If  we  must  fail,  then  we  must  fail,  but  we 
Shall  not,  so  let  us  not  design ;  for  that 
Which  one  does  so  suspect,  and  dwells  full  long 
A  time  upon,  his  sole  suspicions  will 
Most  surely  come  to  pass. 

WITCH: 

So  will  I  then 
Partake  of  your  opinion,  which  falls  well 
Upon  my  ear;  but  still  I  have  my  doubts. 

DEATH : 

Speak  not  thus.     But  put  all  your  trust  into 
The  matter.    Don't  you  doubt  the  things  you  do. 
Nor  that  of  other  men,  lest  that  your  doubt 
Come  true ;  and  if  it  would  come  true,  you'd  strut 
Around  and  say,  '*I  told  you  so.*'    Tell  not 
That  unto  me  soon  afterwards,  if  it  should  fail. 

WITCH: 

I  well  assure  you  that  my  faith 

Has  back  to  me  come  from  the  place  where  all 

Good  faiths  do  go. 
DEATH: 

That  much  so  good. 
WITCH : 

I  must 

Now  on  away,  for  I  have  other  work 

That  must  be  done  this  hour;  but  I  will  say 

Before  I  go,  that  I  will  always  help 

You  well,  as  I  have  done  in  lesser  times 

Need.    I  will  help  thee  unto  the  end 

No  matter  what  may  come.     Come  on!     Let  all 

The  awful  evils  now  of  Science  issue  forth ; 

Our  plan  is  set  afloat,  and  it  may  sail 


40 

Far  out  across  the  sea  of  Triumph  on 
Unto  the  everlasting  goal;  the  killing  of 
The  powers  of  this  Science,  and  once  it  reaches 
The  goal,  let  it  forbid  another  to 
Tresspass  thereon  to  victory. 

(WITCH  goes  to  entrance.) 
DEATH : 

That  has 
Been  rightly  stated.     Fare  thee  well. 

WITCH : 

The  same 
To  you,  and  to  our  sailing  plan. 

(EXIT    WITCH.) 

DEATH : 

The  way 
I  switched  our  fair  one  to  believe  that  which 
She  did  not  heretofore,  most  makes  me  laugh, 
I  have  now  nearly  well  persuaded  my 
Own  self  to  that  believe  which  truly  I  do  not. 
By  so  convincing  her.     But  honestly 
I  must  now  on  my  way,  depart  from  here, 
And  do  the  vast  amount  of  work  which  lies 
Before  me  now,  for  every  man  has  duties  to 
Fulfill,  or  else  he  is  no  man!    I  am 
No  man — but  more  than  one,  for  my 
Great  solitary  reign  does  cover  all 
Ethereal  space — from  star  to  star;  from  sun 
To  sun ;  from  world  to  world ;  does  my  domain 
Extend.     As  king  of  such,  I  must  be  on. 

(EXIT) 

(CURTAIN.) 


41 


SCENE  III. 

(Scene  in  a  room.     The  STUDENT  is  lying  on  a  couch 
asleep.) 

(STUDENT  awakens.) 

STUDENT: 

Horrors !    Was  that  a  ghost  I  saw  ? 

(Jumps    up.) 

I  thought 
A  ghost  was  here  a-grappling  now  with  me — 
He  had  me  by  the  neck!     I  could  not  breathe! 
I  had  a-hold  of  him,  but  could  not  do 
Him  harm!    I  had  just  given  up! — And  now 
Awake  am  standing  here  with  not  a  soul 
About.    Has  ghost  a  soul?    I  know  not, — and 
Care  I  much  less.    No  one  is  here!     It  must 
Have  been  a  dream!     The  way  a  dream  does  fool 
Us  thus  at  times,  and  make  us  tremble  with 
The  heavy  weight  of  imitation  facts. 
I  need  not  fear,  for  Science  now  protects 
Me  well.    To  sleep  again,  and  peaceful  dreams 
I  hope  to  have  this  time. 

(Goes  back  and  lies  down  again.     Jumps  up  again.) 

Oh !  Ye  spirit  of  the  deep,  I  saw 

You  creeping  up  just  then — get  thee  hence! 

Away!     But  what  have  I  been  talking  to? 

There  is  no  one  to  my  command  obey. 

I  thought  I  saw  a  ghost  a-creeping  up. 

To  jump  upon  my  back  and  strangle  me. 

Back!     Quick!     Get!     Away  from  here! 

Well,  no  ghost  stands  in  the  corner  with 

Bloody  knife  in  hand.    It  is  but  fleeting  fear 

That  grapples  thus  my  mind.    To  bed  once  more! 

My  Science  will  protect  me  from  all  evil  things. 


42 

(Goes  to  bed.     ENTER  DEATH.     Looks  around.) 

DEATH : 

Ha !  ha !  here  is  another  victim  for 

The  cause.    I  will  fast  fly  to  where  flies  are, 

To  thus  inform  the  flies  of  this  one  here, 

That  they  may  do  their  given  work  unto  one  more. 

Because  I  cannot  touch  a  mortal  man, 

But  only  prod  the  ones  that  work  for  me. 

And  thus  I  fly  from  place  to  place  far  quicker  than 

The  flies,  and  then  return  and  tell  them  where 

They  may  bring  one  more  mortal  to  lifeless  dust. 

So  fly  again  I  will  and  tell  them  this. 

(EXIT   DEATH.     ENTER   SCIENCE.) 

SCIENCE: 

He  sleeps  so  soundly  there  I  fear  that  Death 
Himself  might  envy  him,  if  only  he 
Could  gaze  upon  the  restful  sleeping  countenance. 
I  will  away. 

(EXIT  SCIENCE.    ENTER  FLIES.) 

FIRST  FLY : 

Ha !  ha !  We  will  put  forth 
Our  evil  energies  upon  this  victim  here ! 

(All  FLIES  go  to  couch.) 

FOURTH  FLY:  ' 

Yea,  verily! 
SECOND  FLY: 

Let  me  at  him. 
FIFTH  FLY: 

Spread  them  on  thick! 
FIRST  FLY: 

That  is  the  way! 

SECOND  FLY: 

Just  give  it  to  him  good ! 
THIRD  FLY: 

Now  get 
Revenge  for  some  of  our  good  comrades! 


43 


SIXTH  FLY: 

So  thus  we  do  the  deed  unto  an  enemy. 
Our  ever  ready  master  bid  us  well  to  do 
All  that  we  could  this  day  to  bring  the  toll 
Much  larger  to  the  never-ending  line 
Of  growing  ranks  of  dead.    Death  prods  us  on 
Where  he  too  fears  to  tread,  and  bids  us  do 
The  ghastly  deeds,  where  dangers  lurk;  and  we 
Must  do  his  bidding  still.    He  must,  I  think 
Know  of  this  ghastly  monster,  that  yesterday 
Wrought  in  our  ranks  such  harvest,  for  if  he 
Didn't,  why  should  he,  (which  is  unusual,) 
Push  us  on  so  energetically? 
And  any  moment  may  bring  forth  the  same 
Grand  monster  to  destroy  us  here,  where  now 
We  do  our  work.    But  why  should  we  raise  up 
A  kick  against  our  master,  for  didn't  this 
Great  monster  sure  play  havoc  with  our  race? 
We  should  for  that  alone  repay  the  deed ; 
And  surely  should  be  thankful  for  the  aid 
That  Death  and  noble  Witch  are  doing  for  us. 
I  have  not  more  to  say  with  reference  to 
The  matter,  for  I  must  get  on  to  work. 

FIFTH  FLY: 

That  is  the  way.    Don't  let  up  yet! 

THIRD  FLY : 

We   won't 

I'm  telling  you ! 

(ENTER  DEATH.) 

DEATH : 

So  thus  the  work  goes  on. 
Go  to  it,  servants  skilled. 

ALL  FLIES: 

We  are!     Sure!     We  do  our  work  full  well! 

DEATH: 

(To  the  audience.) 

Wage  on,  ye  war  infernal,  that  issues  out 


44 

Of  pit  without  a  bottom ;  pit  afire ; 

Where  sulphur  fumes  do  rise  from  everlasting  night, 

For  Hell  is  not  upon  an  axis  like 

The  earth,  to  thus  receive  both  night  and  day. 

But  stationary  in  the  depths  of  space ; 

It  is  as  far  beyond  the  farthest  star 

As  that  star  is  beyond  the  little  globe 

That  I  am  now  a-standing  on,  and  then 

Beyond  the  distance  giv'n  just  now,  it  is 

As  far  beyond  that  as  from  there  to  edge 

Of  space.    No  one  on  this  small  globe  shall  e'er 

Conceive  the  distance  that  it  lies.    Since  he 

Cannot  and  never  will  be  able  to 

Conceive  that  which  has  been  created,  space 

And  all,  and  since  the  great  Creator  must 

Be  greater  than  that  which  has  been  created,  how 

Can  he  see,  or  ever  hope  to  see,  or  to 

Conceive  within  his  mind,  the  great  and  wondrous  grand 

Creator  of  it  all?     It  is  to  laugh ; 

Man  struts  about  this  little  globelet  here 

And  rears  himself  until  he  thinks  that  he 

Does  rule  the  world, — which  is  but  microscopic, 

Less  than  microscopic,  ion,  or  nothingness. 

But  I  will  show  him  soon,  as  now  I  do, 

That  he  will  never  ruler  be  of  anything! 

But  back  again  unto  the  subject  matter: 

The  Pit — where  living  man  has  never  been — 

But  I  have  been  there  more  than  once,  and  it 

Is  surely  awful.    How  could  the  little  mind 

Of  man  that  cannot  even  so  conceive 

The  place  that  Hell  must  be,  conceive  the  awfulness 

That  haunts  the  place,  which  is  far  harder  to 

Conceive,  than  all  the  distance  there. 

(Turns  to  PLIES.) 

Wage  on 
Ye  war  against  the  mortal  man !    Fight  on 
Ye  flies!    Do  well  your  work!    Inflict  your  pain. 

(Turns   to   audience.) 


45 

I  hope  the  fight  goes  on  without  this  Science 
So  much  as  interfering  with  our  work. 
I  wonder  what  this  Science  must  be  like 
To  ravage  thus  the  flies,  and  make  the  tough 
Witch  stagger  and  to  fall ;  but  still 
The  Witch  has  not  gazed  on  the  red-hot  Hell, 
As  I;  nor  has  she  traveled  much  beyond 
The  ends  of  space,  so  it  I  know  would  not 
Shock  me  so  much  to  gaze  upon  his  face, 
For  I  have  looked  the  fearful  Satan  in 
The  eye.    Why  should  I  tremble  when  I  see 
A  monster  on  this  little  globe? 

(ENTER  SCIENCE,  all  fixed  up  with  spray  machines,  bottles  and  dis- 
infectants.    Enters  from  right  side.     Death  is  on  the  left.) 

SCIENCE : 

Ha!  ha! 
So  now  I  come  upon  an  evil  crowd 
Of  carriers  of  germs,  the  flies.    I  will 
Soon  scatter  them  and  send  them  spinning  to 
The  place  where  all  bad  flies  must  go  to  get 
Their  punishment,  if  such  there  be.     I  have 
Wrought  great  havoc  among  their  ranks  since  yesterday. 
And  so  will  I  proceed  to  do ;  and  also  fast 
Repair  the  evilness  that  they  have  wrought 
Amongst  the  men  about;  for  years  they  have 
Been  harming  man,  by  spreading  all  around 
The  evil  germs  that  they  receive  while  walking  on 
The  filthy  places  found  the  world  o'er 
Wherein  germs  breed.    But  ha!    Their  work  and  time 
I^  done.     For  from  now  on  they  shall  forever  cease 
To  bother  man ;  for  I,  Science, 
Shall  henceforth  buffet  them  and  kill  them  off. 
I  will  on  top  of  them !    But  stay !    I  will 
Look  a  while  and  find  their  ways  that  I  may 
The  better  fight  them  in  the  future.    I 
Will  just  stand — make  not  a  sound — and  watch 
Them  do  their  work ;  and  in  doing  so  I 
Will  watch  them  closely,  so  that  I  will  not  let  of  harm 
Come  to  their  victim  while  doing  experiment. 


46 

Look  how  they  crowd  around, —  and  hide  him  from 
My  view.    They  do  their  dirty  job  right  well, 
I  grant — and  so  will  I  when  I  get  started. 
(SCIENCE  looks  on.    DEATH  talk  but  does  not  look  around.) 
DEATH : 

Rave  on,  ye  flies,  and  do  your  work  full  well. 
My  best  and  only  wishes  are  for  you 
To  fast  succeed  before  the  hand  of  Science 
Appears  and  does  his  heard-of-but-not-seen 
Evil  deed. 

(DEATH  glances  at  the  other  side  of  the  stage,  and  sees  SCIENCE, 
watching  the  FLIES.) 

Oh,  O-o-o-o!  Oh!  What!  This  must  be  him 

(DEATH    shakes) 

Of  which  they  all  have  spoken  of  to  be 

So  ghastly  dangerous;  and  I  see  that 

My  own  knees  rattle ; 

Is  not  it  odd  that  which  the  eye  can  do 

To  make  all  rest  of  body  tremble.     So 

This  sure  is  he ;  the  latest  work  of  man, 

Which  man  protects.     He  does  look  strange  to  me 

And  truly  dangerous.     I  fear  the  plan 

Is  done !    How  viciously  he  looks  upon 

The  trusty  flies  a-working  yonder  now. 

Ye  gods!    Let  now  the  mists  of  all  eternal  space 

Fall  all  about.     My  day  is  nearly  done 

With  man,  at  least  as  far  as  flies  can  aid 

Me  and  my  work  r    I  see  this  glowing  from 

The  monster's  eyes!     And  he  is  bigger  far 

Than  I!  •  How  could  I  cope  with  him?     Let  all 

The  dogs  of  red-hot  Hell  rush  forth  and  chase 

Me  off;  off  into  space,  away  from  this 

Small  globe,  that  glides  in  circles  here. 

(DEATH  turns  to  FLIES.) 

Hence,  quick! 
Flee!    Fly,  flies! 

(SCIENCE  turns  to  DEATH.) 


SCIENCE 
DEATH : 


47 
Death ! 


Science ! 

(ENTER  WITCH.) 

FLIES  ALL: 

•  Wow !  Oh !  My !  Help ! 

Murder!  Gangway!  Fly!  Flee!  The  Monster! 
Run!  Fly! 

WITCH: 

What  is  the  loud  commotion  all 
About? 

FLIES; 


DEATH : 


Run!    Fly! 

Run !  Witch,  run !  See !  It  is  Science ! 

Fly  all! 

(All  FLIES  are  running  to  the  door,  the  WITCH  among  them,  and 
DEATH  following.) 

SCIENCE : 

Flee!     Will  ye,  flee?     Ye  are 
.Too  late,  for  every  fly  will  die!    By  my 
Will,  each  will. 

(All  EXIT,  SCIENCE  close  after.    STUDENT  then  awakens  and  springs 
up.) 

STUDENT: 

What  was  the  loud  commotion?    Was  it  a  dream? 

It  must  have  been.    But  somewhere  down  in  mv 

Subconscious  memory,  it  seems  to  me 

I  heard  a  great  commotion  here  just  now. 

The  sounds  of  great  confusion  tinkle  in 

My  ears.   Ha !  ha !  Sure !  There  issues  sounds 

Right  now  in  thru  the  door  of  some  confusion.     Now 

The  sounds  are  hushed. 

(Goes  to  door.) 

I  smell  the  odor  of 
My  Science  in  the  air.     Here  comes  my  Science  now. 


48 
Who  will  inform  me  what  the  trouble  is? 

(ENTER  SCIENCE.) 

Hail  friend  and  new  protector.     I  just  dreampt 
While  on  the  couch  of  great  confusion,  and 
Of  many  rash  and  screeching  noises,  and 
Of  shoutings,  as  of  from  one  great  multitude. 

SCIENCE: 

Your  dream  was  true  for  there  was  no  small  number 

here 
Just  then;  a  mob  of  evil-doing  flies 
Were  hanging  round  and  were  caressing  you 
With  all  the  germs  that  they  could  heap  upon 
Your  face,  and  now  the  germs,  tho  microscopic,  are 
Put  on  so  thick  across  your  cheek,  that  I 
Can  see  their  multitudes  without  the  aid 
Of  magnifying  glass.    I  stood  fast  by 
To  watch  their  ways  a  little  while,  until 
I  saw  that  they  might  smother  you,  and  then 
I  rushed  forward  and  someone  shouted  loud 
For  them  to  flee  away  from  here,  I  looked 
Around  and  saw  it  was  a  ghost ;  at  his 
Clear  shout  the  flies  began  to  flee,  and  then 
A  witch  came  in,  and  I  chased  after  them 
As  they  did  flee  from  me,  and  now  outside 
Each  fly  now  lies  dead,  and  the  ghost  who  was 
But  Death,  has  taken  them  to  be  his  own. 

STUDENT: 

What  would  have  happened  if  I  had  not  had 
You  to  watch  over  and  protect  me  thus? 

SCIENCE: 

Death  would  have  had  you  soon  instead  of  his 
Own  friendly  flies. 

STUDENT: 

O  Science !     My  Science !     How  can 
Man  e'er  repay  you  for  the  work  that  you 
Have  done  and  always  do  hereafter?    You  have 


49 

Relieved  the  race  of  all  the  burdens  of 
Having  to  satisfy  the  evil  wants 
Of  all  those  flies ;  which  are  to  kill  us  off. 
Oh !  Science,  how  great  art  thou ! 

SCIENCE  : 

I  do  it  willingly 
And  do  not  wish  to  be  repaid  for  these 
Things  that  I  do.    I  must  not  stay  here  long,   . 
For  other  people  may  my  aid  wish  to  secure. 

STUDENT: 

Fare  thee  well.    Do  all  you  can  to  aid  them. 

(EXIT   SCIENCE) 

So  thus  we  see  how  Science  aids  us  well. 
Each  one  of  us  should  well  appreciate 
The  things  that  Science  does  for  us 
While  all  the  days  go  by,  not  to  return 
Again.    Hail  Science  well!    Help  him  on! 
Let  not  him  e*er  become  discouraged.    Aid 
Him  well. 
(Goes  and  sits  on  couch  and  puts  chin  in  hands,  and  looks  at  floor.) 

I  surely  do  appreciate 
What  Science  did  for  me !    So  thus  I  will 
Sit  silently  for  not  a  little  time 
That  may  the  better  think  it  o'er,  and  while 
Thus  thinking  here,  better  than  e'er  before. 
Appreciate. 

(CURTAIN,  SLOWLY.) 
THE  END 


50 


PARADISE 

The  dew  as  yet  is  on  the  springtime  grass, 

The  brook  is  babbling  over  moss-grown  stones 
And  singing,  brings  to  me  a  wondrous  mass 

Of  music,  made  of  tones  and  overtones; 
A  cowbell  tinkles  in  a  pasture  by; 

A  meadowlark  with  thrilling  accent  calls; 
Small  bits  of  sunlit  fog  float  in  the  sky ; 

A  golden  haze  o'er  all  the  meadow  falls; 
Birds  singing  in  the  thicket  soft  and  low ; 

And  ridges  thru  the  grass  are  made  by  moles; 
Sad  murmurs  of  a  dove  in  accents  slow; 

And  breezes  sighing  thru  the  gopher  holes. 


•     51 
THE  SONG  OF  THE  MARSH 

Ha!  ha!  I  love  the  swamps  and  sloughs 

Where  water-cresses  grow; 
The  place  where  oily  bubbles  ooze, 

From  murky  muds  below. 

Where  algae  form  a  thick  green  scum, 

And  duck-weed  floats  afar; 
Where  little  snails  slowly  come 

Along  the  sandy  bar. 

There  lie  the  lazy  carp  and  bass, 

In  purple  shades  and  green ; 
And  here  the  sluggish  turtles  pass, 

And  water  snakes  are  seen. 

The  reeds  a  rustling  murmur  make, 
When  scented  breezes  blow 

Along  the  margin  of  the  lake, 
As  they  sway  to  and  fro. 

The  green  frog  sits  on  lily  leaf 
And  croaks  with  happy  glee ; 

Along  the  margin  of  the  reef 
Of  lilies,  sounds  the  bee. 

The  mud-hen  cackles  crisp  and  sharp 
From  out  the  shades  of  blue. 

Now  sounds  a  song  from  Nature's  harp 
Of  marsh  reeds  bent  askew. 

The  sun  reflects  in  silver  line. 

Along  the  murky  ooze ; 
And  here  and  there  it  tries  to  shine. 

But  ripples  it  diffuse. 

Oh!  just  to  be  beneath  the  shade 
Of  weeping  willow  there, 


52 


And  still  be  near  some  open  glade 
With  flowers  everywhere. 

Ha!  ha!  there  comes  a  soothing  breeze 
That  smells  of  ooze  and  scum, 

Of  fish,  and  weeds,  and  flowers,  and  leas,- 
Where  bumble  bees  must  hum ! 


^  53 

IN  DESERT  WINTER  WIND 

I  sit  upon  a  sand-dune  bleak, 

And   cold,   and   dry, 
And  watch  the  whirled  sand  sneak 

Among  the  bushes  by, 
Gathered  and  pushed  on  by  strong 

North  wind,  while  sings 
He  on  his  way  his  desert  song 

Of  sand,  he  flings. 

My  ears  are  filled  with  lull  of  wind 

As  I  sit  here 
And  watch  the  dust  across  the  thinned, 

Parched,  sage  brush  near. 
And  far,  float  in  great  gusts ; 

The  cold  wind  chills 
Me  through  my  heavy  coat,  and  casts 

A  gloom  o'er  me  and  fills 
My  heart  with  loneliness  and  cold. 

But  still  I  sit  here  on  the  sand 

And  wait  alone, 
And  drop  my  heavy  knotted  hand 

Holding  a  stone 
Into  the  shifting  grains,  to  see 

The  dent  fill  up 
With  dull  gray  sand  so  magically. 

I  am  in  harmony  with  all 

The  world  around. 
While  showers  of  sand  around  me  fall, 

The  swishing  sound 
Of  wind  in  cactus  thorns  is  like 

That  in  my  hair, 
I'm  cold  and  lonely,  so  I  strike 

The  sand  and  stare! 


54 


SUNSET 

A  gloom  the  glade  pervades, 

The  giant  limbs  of  ancient  trees  are  bare; 
And  all  the  dusky  shades 

Of  shrubs  and  vines,  the  rough-barked  tree  trunks  share, 
The  multimillion  twigs 

High  overhead  blend  in  the  deep  blue  sky, 
Like  dark  grey  smoke  that  jiggs 

Its  way,  and  casts  a  gloom  o*er  places  by. 

Far  thru  an  open  space, 

Spared  by  the  trees  in  ancient  times  of  yore, 
In  shining  brilliant  lace 

The  glow  of  fading  sunset  intertwines 
Among  the  dusky  bows; 

And  flashing  red  between  the  tree  trunks  shines 
Upon  a  lonely  pool, 
And,  glowing,  darts  toward  the  heavens  once  more. 


55 
IN  DESERT  WASH 

I 

How  parched,  and  scorched,  and  dry, 
The  sand,  and  rocks  and  gravel  seem, 

Here  in  this  wash  close  by; 
No  one  would  think  a  stream 

Had  flowed  along  this  rocky  waste  in  recent  years. 
In  fact,  for  centuries. 

H 

In  torrents  falls  the  rain 

From  sky  upon  the  sand,  and  stones; 
Great  walls  of  water  feign 

To  far  out-do  the  moans 
Of  wind  that  hurls  along  the  rain  in  mighty  blasts 

While  thunder  shakes  the  earth. 

Ill 

The  heat  waves  shake  the  hills, 

And  stretch  them  out  and  up  and  down 

They  move,  and  nothing  fills 
The  air  in  way  of  sound  ; 

For  heat  from  blazing  sun,  and  rocks,  and  sand, 
And  sky,  is  all  around. 


56 


SIERRA  SUNSET 

When  the  sun  is  sinking  golden, 
And  the  peaks  are  all  afire, 
And  the  purple  shadows  linger  on  the  snow ; 
And  the  pines  of  ages  olden 
With  their  ever  dreamy  lyre 
Play  a  never,  ever,  changing  tune  below ; 
When  the  sky  is  clear,  and  brazen 
With  the  sun's  eternal  glory; 
And  the  air  is  clear  and  crisp  as  it  can  be ; 
Then  I  grasp  the  wild  spirit  / 

Of  great  Nature's  wondrous  story. 
In  each  tree,  and  peak,  and  in  the  sunset's  glow; 
Ah !  what  joy  to  be  so  near  it. 
Be  a  part  of  it  and  know  it; 
Be  a  part  of  everything  which  one  can  see ! 


57 


ALONE 

'Neath  weeping  willow  sapling  on  a  stone, 
Beside  a  crystal  brook  with  mirror  pool, 

There  sat  a  little  maiden  all  alone, 

Her  image  mirrored  on  the  water  cool. 

Her  head  was  bent,  with  tresses  all  astray. 
Excepting  those  held  in  her  pale  hands 

Which  wiped  away  the  sad~tears  of  dismay 
That  trickled  down  toward  her  bosom  lands. 

It  is  for  me  but  only  to  surmise 

What  might  have  greived  so  beautiful  a  maid, 
While  I  come  back  with  moistened,  hi^vy  eyes. 

And  stand  here  waiting  in  the  woooland  shade. 


58  •         ' 

UNKNOWN 

Far  up  the  mountain  side  there  sings, 
A  thrush  that  trills  of  heavenly  things, 

And  fills  the  air  with  many  a  throb 

Of  joy,  which  comes  direct  from  God ; 
Yet  never  an  ear  is  there  to  hear 

The  throbbing  accents  fall, 
Only  an  echo  sounds  back  clear 

The  melody  from  rocky  wall. 

Far  off  on  some  Alaskan  height. 
Where  ni^ht  is  day,  and  day  is  night. 

The  silent  beauty  there  would  fill 

A  soul  with  joy,  and  awe  instill ; 
But  never  as  yet  has  one  beheld. 

From  certain  icy  pinnacle 
That  magic  scene,  forever  knelled 

By  Silence's  everlasting  bell. 

Far  out  across  Sahara's  sands 
When  sinks  the  sun  in  desert  lands 

The  sky  with  richest  splendor  glows 

With  beauty  such  as  no  one  knows; 
And  way,  way,  doyn  in  the  deep,  deep  sea, 

A  fish  of  beauty  gleams; 
Which  human  eyes  will  never  see 

Except  in  far-flung  dreams. 

Across  the  pasture  lands  there  glides. 
Then  up  the  gentle  sloping  sides 

Of  grassy  hill,  a  plaintive  tune 

Of  singing  maid,  passing  at  noon ; 
While  in  the  quiet  of  the  hour 

No  workman  there  is  near. 
To  gather  in  the  wondrous  shower 

Of  melody, — and  hear. 

In  some  far  land  a  poet  sings. 


59 

And  there  unto  his  friends  he  brings 

A  joy  unto  their  toiling  souls; 

He  seeks  no  fame  or  fleeting  goals 
Which  many  elsewhere  may  pursue; 

The  world  will  never  hear; 
These  lays  will  never  come  to  you 

From  such  a  far-off  seer. 

Trill  on,  you  bird  on  mountain  height; 
Glow  on,  you  fading  sunset  light; 

Ring  out  you  Silence  of  the  north ; 

Swim,  bright  fish,  swim,  swim  back  and  forth ; 
Sing  on,  sweet  maid  across  the  way; 

Chant,  you  distant  lyrist. 
Uplift  your  friends  from  day  to  day 

Who  hold  your  friendship  dearest. 


60 
ONLY  A  FROG 

"Only  a  frog — 

Only  a  frog — 

Sitting  on  a  green  lily-leaf  in  a  bog, 

A  worthless  frog  which  may  live  or  die, 

And  may  do  either,  what  little  care  I?" 

These  were  the  words  of  a  passer-by. 

Only  a  frog — 

Only  a  frog — 

Only  a  frog  on  a  grey-green  log, 

Only  a  frog  that  lives  in  a  bog. 

But  wonderful  creature  to  me  it  seems, 

Most  harmless  and  useful  to  country  folk. 
With  large  bright  eyes,  which  bring  me  fond  dreams, 

And  beautiful  music  to  me  is  its  croak. 
Did  you  ever  hear 
On  summer  night  clear, 
From  marsh,  or  swamp,  or  bog,  or  slough, 
The  chorus  of  thousands  sing  sweetly  to  you? 

Singing,  singing,  ever  singing. 
Always  with  a  certain  rhythm 
Absolute  as  mechanism. 
Metronomic  in  its  tempo. 
Sometimes  only  a  soft  murmur, 
Always  rhythm,  wondrous  rhythm, 

Rising  then  with  smooth  vibration ; 
Slow  and  gradual  then  decreasing. 

Always  with  a  tone  of  sadness 

Always  sweet,  and  clear,  and  bell-like ; 
With  a  touch  of  harmless  madness ; 
Always  with  a  care-free  gladness. 
Wondrous  chorus — melody 
Is  your  greatest  specialty. 
With  the  best  of  harmony 
In  your  noctum  symphony. 


61 

Ah !  that  nocturn  symphony 
Is  as  wonderful  to  me 
As  the  murmur  of  the  sea 
Chiming  of  infinity. 

Night  after  night, — night  after  night, 
As  eager  crowd  in  concert  light, 
Have  I  enjoyed  your  melody, 
Your  harmony,  your  symphony. 

Only  a  frog. 

Only  a  frog, 

Only  a  frog  on  a  grey-green  log ; 

Only  a  frog  that  lives  in  a  bog. 


62 
THE  DEVIL'S  RHAPSODY 

PRELUDE 

With  a  "Ha!  ha!  ha!"  and  a  "Ho!  ho!  ho! 
I  heard  the  rippling  laughter  flow 

Across  the  way, 

At  end  of  day, 
With  echoes  following  after. 

With  a  "Chirp!  chirp!  chirp!"  and  a  "Chee!  chee!  chee!" 
I  heard  the  notes  float  down  to  me 

From  up  above, 

They  were  the  love 
Notes  of  a  bird  descending. 

With  a  "Sway !  sway !  sway !"  and  a  "Whip !  whip !  whip !" 
I  heard  the  joyous  breezes  slip 

Among  the  trees, 

As  branches  seize 
They,  while  passing  playfully. 

With  a  "Buzz!  buzz!  buzz!"  and  a  "Hum!  hum!  hum!" 
I  heard  among  the  flowers  come. 

The  honey  bees. 

From  shrubs  and  trees. 
To  gather  pollen  gaily. 

With  an  "IN-FI-NITE" ;  and  a  "NEVER-FILL" ! 
Did  I  grasp  the  tune  of  Satanville, 

From  the  long-drawn  moan 

Of  things  unknown. 
That  reach  this  world  unconsciously. 

A  question? 
So, 

With  a  "He!  ha!  ha!"  and  a  "Tra!  la!  la!" 
We  trip  our  way,  without  delay. 
Unless  by  chance. 


63 


We  hap  to  dance 
Into  the  wrong  defenselessly. 


Twas  in  a  valley,  small  and  deep, 

And  dark,  almost,  by  day; 
King  Silence  reigned,  and  seemed  to  sleep, 

And  soundless  held  his  sway. 
The  place  was  dark,  and  damp,  and  cold. 

And  seemed  to  send  a  chill 
Far  down  the  spine  of  mortal  bold. 

Whom  chance  brought  down  the  hill. 
The  path  was  steep,  and  dark,  and  rough, 

All  filled  with  sharpened  stones; 
As  if  these  were  not  quite  enough, 

*Twas  later  lined  with  bones. 
Down  o'er  cliff,  by  brier  and  thorn. 

And  into  cavern  drear; 
Then  out  again  to  places  torn 

By  torrents,  year  on  year. 


II 


The  single  path — the  only  path, 

Leads  on  its  horrid  way, 
Far  down  unto  the  aftermath 

Of  Satan's  midnight  sway ; 
The  only  path — the  path  of  woe. 

The  path  that's  seldom  trod ; 
The  path  that  goes  'way  down  below. 

The  path  where  Chance  is  God ; 
The  path  that  once  in  years'  long  flow 

Is  seen  by  mortal  sod. 


Ill 


By  night  or  day  the  twilight's  play 
Across  the  valley's  floor; 


64 


Tho  high  as  may  the  sunlight  stay 

It  never  reaches  for 
The  darkest  cavern's  gloom, 
Or  try  the  hazes  to  consume, 
Or  try  to  make  the  sunlight  bloom 
Within  the  valley's  spacious  room; 
But  only  can  itself  resume 

Its  unmolested  worldly  task; 
It  haunts  not  this  unnatural  place, 
But  only  shines  its  brilliant  face 

To  make  unhaunted  places  bask 

Within  its  liquid,  leisurely. 
For  never  yet  has  ray  of  sun 

Pierced  down  into  the  dark; 
This  awful  place  they  always  shun, 

And  seek  a  higher  mark. 
Here  moon  alone  can  cast  his  beams 

According  to  the  law 
Of  this  lone  place,  of  sleepless  dreams, 

To  where  but  spirits  caw. 


IV 

When  shines  the  moon  in  full  or  part, 

Long  after  sun  has  fled. 

Each  little  rivulet  of  light 

Flows  over  cliff's  high  head. 
And  fills  the  hushful  valley's  heart, 
And,  ah !  it  is  a  ghastly  sight 

Far  down  the  dusky  deep. 
To  see  the  hazy  moon  in  mist 

Awaken  up  from  sleep 
The  deepest  shadows  with  its  light. 
The  darkest  shadows  there  when  kist 

By  magic  light  of  moon, 

Seem  so  to  rise  and  make  the  eyes, 

Deceived  by  magic  swoon, 
Bulge  out  to  watch  them  move  in  mist. 


65 


Around  the  place  few  mortals  face, 

Not  anything  can  grow; 
But  only  things  from  out  in  space 

Where  breezes  never  blow, 
Can  plant  themselves  and  grow  like  weeds, 

Within  the  valley  small ; 
For  things  that  from   unnatural  seeds 
Within  unnatural  places  grow. 
And  here  strange  men  like  strange  plants  live. 

And  wend  their  ways  without  a  sound ; 
As  back  and  forth  they  float,  they  give 

Aroma  to  the  air  around ; 
Tis  like  the  smell  of  red  hot  Hell, 

Where  sulphur  breezes  blow; 
And  fills  the  air  like  roses  fair. 

About  the  place  they  grow. 

VI 

On  the  top  of  an  old  dead  tree. 

That  stood  where  the  path  went  down; 

As  a  great  old  watch  was  he. 

Where  he  sat  on  a  leafless  limb. 

That  was  dead  on  the  top  of  the  tree ; 

The  owl  with  the  moon  behind  him. 

He  rapped  on  his  ancient  tune. 

In  the  midnight  hours  near  twelve. 

By  the  light  of  the  paling  moon : 

(Song  of  the  Owl) 

"Ha!  ha!  ha,  ha,  my  midnight  friend, 

My  moon  so  round  and  full. 
How  stubbornly  your  way  you  wend. 

Like  big,  thick-headed  bull. 

"Ah  Moon,  I  rattle  my  beak  loud. 


66 

You  do  not  answer  me ; 
But  often  hide  above  a  cloud, 
So  that  you  cannot  see. 

"I  revel  in  the  moonlit  mist, 

A  king  of  sloughs  am  I ; 
Across  the  thick  scum,  silver-kist, 

I  rattle  and  sweep  by. 

"How  sifts  the  moonlight  in  the  air, 

Like  pollen  from  a  flower; 
And  makes  the  world  so  ghastly  fair, 

Thru  many  a  midnight  hour. 

"How  silent  is  the  swamp  and  sweet 

The  scent  of  emerald  scum ; 
When  shadows  lengthen  and  retreat. 

Because  thy  light  has  come. 

"Oh !  Swamp !  the  king  of  beasts  and  men. 

Where  both  sink  sadly  slow ; 
And  I  am  king  of  swamp  and  fen, 

As  you,  my  Moon,  may  know. 

"The  cat-tails  bend  beneath  my  wmg, 

As  o'er  them  in  the  night; 
I  fan  the  sullen  air,  and  fling 

Myself  in  distant  flight. 

"My  Moon,  you  shine  for  me  alone. 
And  all  the  stars  you've  slain ; 

Across  the  reeds  I  hoot  and  moan. 
My  solitary  reign." 

The  path  was  broad,  and  here  not  steep. 
Where  this  large  owl  was  wont  to  sleep, 
Or  sit  and  keep  a  watch  around 
To  see  no  one  passed  o'er  the  ground. 


67 
VII 

And  on  this  path  out  of  the  brush 

I  stumbled  and  fell  down ; 
While  o'er  the  wood  there  fell  a  hush, 

As  when  a  tree  far  out  of  town 
In  forest  there  is  cut 

And  crashingly  falls  down. 
The  owl  this  once  was  not  on  watch, 

But  on  a  midnight  spree; 
And  thus  by  chance  allowed  to  dance 

On  downward  clumsily. 
So  down  I  went  with  senses  dim 

Unto  the  world  below 
A  mortal  rare  so  well  to  fare 

Unto  the  world  of  woe. 

VIII 

The  moon  shone  down  and  the  sun  shone  up, 

And  the  stars  shone  all  around ; 
As  I  stumbled  down  the  darkened  way, 

And  many  times  fell  to  the  ground. 
Thru  briers  and  thorns,  I  slid  and  fell, 

And  cut  my  hands  on  stones; 
As  nearer  I  reached  the  earthly  Hell, 

I  rattled  among  the  bones 
Of  men  who  long  since  passed  away. 

And  entered  the  land  of  groans. 
Thru  rushing  streams  I  dragged  my  feet; 

And  crawled  thru  icy  cave 
Where  freezing  water  seared  my  cheek ; 

Where  whistling  breezes  gave 
Me  chills,  and  filled  my  heart  with  fear. 

IX 

At  last  I  fell  (for  hours  it  seemed) 
And  struck  near  entrance  of  a  cave. 


68 


When  I  came  to,  the  spirits  screamed, 
And  screeched,  and  howled,  and  moaned; 
And  when  I  heard  I  groaned 
And  sank  into  a  raving  fit. 


Again  I  looked,  again  I  heard, 
Tho  made  no  sound,  said  not  a  word. 
And  tried  to  see,  and  gather  all 
That  I  could  learn  of  midnight  brawl, 
Which  all  around  me  seemed  to  mass. 
Each  ghost,  or  spirit,  soul  or  ghoul, 
Could  not  see  me  (unlucky  fool,) 
Or  thus  pretended  not  to  see 
My  fallen  heap  of  misery. 

Faint  rays  of  moon  showed  shadows  near 
Who  danced  in  everlasting  fear 
Of  entry  of  the  cave ;  and  then 
Out  of  the  cave  there  came  a  blast, 

A  roar  loud  and  long; 
Then  out  came  spirits  thick  and  fast. 
Moaning  of  pain,  and  hate,  and  woe. 
To  have  a  dance,  and  have  a  song 
And  scream  before  the  midnight  gong 
Strikes  loud  the  sign  to  rush  below. 
Where  spires  bum  and  hot  winds  blow. 

XI 

One  spirit  chanted  close  to  me, 

And  in  a  sad  burnt  melody 

I  heard  his  pathos,  and  his  plea : 

"I  sang  above 
With  all  the  love 
Of  one  who  holds  the  world  so  dear; 
I  sank  below, 


69 


And  now  I  blow 
About  this  place  of  pain  and  fear. 

In  world  above 

I  sang  of  love 
And  heard  the  lute  most  joyously ; 

But  now  I  hear 

Without  an  ear 
The  roars  of  Hell  incessantly. 

I  long  for  song 

Among  the  throng 
Of  spirits  roaming  endlessly." 

Spirits  danced,  and  spirits  sang 
Of  worldly  woes,  and  ghastly  din. 
Of  smoke,  and  fire,  and  shocking  bang; 
And  imps  all  rushing  out  and  in. 

The  sulphur  fumes,  and  smoke  grew  thick, 
And  mouth  of  cave  grew  dusky  dim ; 

"Here  comes  the  master  of  us  all, 
And  all  the  imps  that  follow  him" ; 

A  spirit  moaned  while  passing  quick; 
I  swooned. 

xn 

All  at  once  there  was  a  blast 
All  at  once  and  all  at  last; 
The  air  as  if  by  mighty  force 
Was  upward  all  expelled. 
And  quicker  still  was  all  discourse 
Among  the  phantom  spirits  quelled ; 
As  loudly  tolled  the  bell. 

XIII 

The  sun  shone  down  and  the  moon  shone  up. 

And  the  stars  shone  all  around. 
As  I  crawled  along  on  hands  and  knees. 


70 


Upon  the  cold  damp  ground; 
Thru  the  caverns  dark  and  drear, 
Thru  the  thorns  and  briers  near, 
Over  the  cliffs  and  over  the  walls, 
Passed  the  mocking  waterfalls, 
Up  the  steep  path,  on  the  stones, 
From  the  land  of  souls  and  bones. 

XIV 

Up  shone  the  sun,  and  down  shone  the  moon, 
And  the  stars  shone  all  around. 

As  over  I  fell  in  a  deep,  deep  swoon, 

On  the  rocks  and  the  hard,  hard  ground. 

XV 

Blank, — blank, — blank, — 

Dark, — dark,— dark, — 

From  the  dream  into  sleep  I  quickly  sank, 

Like  glow  out  of  a  spark. 

As  rain  out  of  a  dusty  cloud 

Sinks  in  a  sandy  bank! 


71 
OUT  OF  THE  DEEP 

PRELUDE  • 

I  saw,  or  thought  I  saw 

The  figure  of  a  man, 

Old,  and  bent,  and  grey; 

And  as  I  gazed 

And  tried  to  see, 

(In  wondrous  melody) 

I  heard : 


"They  rise  and  grapple  with  the  endless  time, 

And  try  to  shape  their  given  four-score  years. 

Into  desired  centuries  of  life. 

With  all  their  science  and  their  knowledge  gained 

They  try  to  fathom  everlasting  time, 

And  feign  to  solve  the  universe; 

But  in  their  blindness  cannot  see. 

That  far  out  into  space  there  be 
That  which  their  telescopic  sight  will  ne'er  perceive. 
Or  solid  calculations  help  them  to  believe. 

II 

"From  mom  to  night  they  roam  in  raving  fits 

Of  pain,  and  hate,  and  love 

And  gather  in  their  bits 

Of  pith  and  straw,  out  of  the  Chaos  piled, 

But  fail  to  find  the  kernel  through  their  actions  wild. 

Ill 
"They  soon  must  end  their  syncopated  fear. 
And  slip  forever  from  this  awful  sphere 
Where  men  must  fight  and  bite,  and  mash 
Each  other  in  the  everlasting  clash 
For  gain,  and  grab  for  wealth  and  power. 


72 

The  silly  fools  in  blindness  cannot  see 
That  on  ahead  in  every  life  must  be 
The  time  and  place 

When  he  must  rise  out  of  his  piece  of  clay, 
And  quickly  enter  into  everlasting  day; 
Like  dragonfly  which  spends  its  long  life  there, 
In  muddy,  dark,  cold  water  of  the  pool. 
Comes  budding,  blooming  forth  into  the  sunlit  air 
And  quickly  speeds  away. 
On  wings  that  sparkle  fair. 

IV 

"And  I  myself  have  flown  me  far 

Into  the  never-ending  space,  from  star  to  star. 

Tho  any  way  I  turn  and  speed  with  might, 

And  far  surpass  the  speed  of  ever  fleeting  light, 

I  cannot  reach  the  end  of  never  ending  space ; 

And  tho  I  do  so  for  a  million  years 

I  will  but  reach  beginning, 

For  eager  shears 

Which  clip  all  Ends, 

Will  never  click  and  clip 

The  further  reaches  of  everlasting  time  and  space. 

So  on  I  go  and  ever  sip 

The  darkness  from  the  dark — 

And  have  the  joy  for  everlasting  time 

Of  speeding  in  the  Universe, 

From  place  to  place. 


"This  one  small  globe  (where  man  must  bide  his  time, 

And  by  his  indolence  brought  on  by  himself 

Must  sit  and  stare  and  play  the  idiot. 

And  talk  and  prattle,  and  vainly  climb 

The  tree  of  knowledge  but  to  find 

That  things  ethereal  have  fled  from  him 

And  all  the  races  of  his  foolish  kind,) 


73 

Will  pass  away  as  sand 
Into  the  Brine. 

VI 

"Free,  free,  let  each  be  free, 

And  sink  into  eternity 

From  all  the  petty  tears  and  woe 

Of  this  small  mortal  sphere, 

(Where  man  is  slave  of  fear) 

And  quickly  let  him  go ; 

Never  to  return  to  misery  and  pain. 

Never  to  play  the  part  of  slave  again, 

And  fool,  and  yet  not  know. 

VII 

"The  eyes  they  have,  so  brown,  or  blue, 

(Or  other  color  such  as  you) 

And  ears  each  one  has  on  his  head. 

And  each  can  feel,  as  I  have  said, 

Of  pain,  and  woe,  and  love  and  all — 

Each  one  is  blind  and  cannot  see 

That  all  things  reach  Eternity ; 

No  one  can  feel,  or  will  not  try 

To  feel  the  pulses  of  the  sky; 

Or  hear  the  singing  thruout  space 

Of  who  preceded  in  this  place. 

VIII 

"They  look  without,  both  far  and  wide. 

And  with  each  other  vainly  chide 

Of  which  they  know  not  of; 

They  all  should  look  within — within, — 

Into  the  mirror  of  their  souls; 

Within,  within, — is  all  there  is. 

Without, — the  mirage  of  their  goals." 


74 


The  Legend  of  ''Las  Lamas 


}> 


OWN  in  a  small  valley  in  Mexico  on  a  level  plair 
lies  the  village  of  Mayran.  Beyond  the  borders  o1 
this  Jittle  valley  all  is  barren  and  hot.  Even  the 
hills  surrounding  the  valley  look  forlorn,  and  desert 
ed  of  vegetation.  Bordering  on  the  south  lies  "Las  Lam 
as,"  a  large  stretch  of  boggy,  swampy,  land ;  quite  ranl^ 
with  marsh  grasses  and  plants,  but  containing  only  a  few 
shrubs,  the  most  prominent  of  which  is  a  large  aged  wil- 
low tree,  standing  along  the  north  bank  quite  near  the 
village.  At  times  stray  cattle  and  horses,  or  other  domes- 
tic animals,  get  out  on  this  unfirm  sod  and  sink  in  the  mud 
farther  and  farther,  until  they  utterly  disappear  and  per 
ish  in  the  oozy,  sticky,  slimy  mire. 

The  dazzling  sunlight  drizzles  down  upon  the  antique 
adobe  dwellings  of  the  village,  until  the  outlines  of  the 
buildings  waver  up  and  down  as  tho  they  were  alive  anc 
wished  to  crawl  out  across  the  swamp  and  be  delivered 
forever  from  the  land  of  light  and  sun  A  few  wan  look 
ins  Spaniards  trudge  along  the  streets ;  the  sun  is  slanting 
across  their  brilliant  garbs  and  playing  hide  and  seek  ir 
the  ridges  and  furrows  of  their  faces. 

In  contrast  to  the  parched,  cracked  houses,  on  the  nor 
them  outskirts  of  the  village  is  a  beautiful  spring,  cleai 
as  crystal  and  ice  cold.  It  was  owned  by  a  very  poor  mar 
by  name  Soto  Pico.  He  was  tall,  and  lanky,  and  lean 
with  deep-set  dark  eyes,  shaded  by  large,  shaggy  eye 
brows. 

He  had  to  work  hard  to  support  his  family  of  a  wife 
and  two  sons  by  selling  his  water  on  the  streets  of  the  vil- 
lage for  a  small  sum.  Now,  since  this  was  the  pooresi 
sort  of  a  village  and  Soto  the  poorest  kind  of  a  man,  he 
had  to  take  whatever  he  could  get  for  his  water.  A1 
times  he  woud  get  food  and  meats,  at  others  he  was 
forced  to  take  clothes  and  woven  baskets  and  pottery,  anc 


75 

then  his  family  and  himself  had  to  go  hungry  But  his 
fine  quality  of  water  was  much  esteemed  by  all  the  people 
in  the  village,  and  since  the  rest  of  the  water  thereabouts 
was  not  fit  for  anything  but  animals  to  drink — his  water 
was  in  much  demand  But  this  year  in  particular  was  a 
poor  year  and  everything  was  going  from  bad  to  worse 
and  it  looked  as  tho  a  famine  would  threaten. 

Now  by  tradition  this  city  was  long  ago  occupied  by  a 
number  of  Spanish  families  from  Spain  who  came  over  to 
Mexico  in  early  colonizing  times.  These  Spanish,  who 
were  already  rich,  had,  upon  settling  here,  made  crusades 
far  and  near,  and  had  forced  th-e  Aztecs  to  give  to  them 
countless  millions  of  gold,  silver  and  jewels.  They  secured 
all  the  wealth  form  all  the  Aztecs  for  miles  and  miles 
around.  After  all  these  successful  campaigns  they  set- 
tled down  into  luxury;  such  luxury  as  was  never  dreamed 
of  by  the  people  of  the  village  today.  All  of  their  dwell- 
ings looked  inside  like  fairyland,  and  at  all  hours  of  the 
day  and  night  tinkling,  fairy-like  music  could  be  heard. 
They  ate,  drank,  came  and  went  when  they  pleased ;  fol- 
Iwed  by  the  rustling  of  silk,  and  the  tinkling  of  silver 
bells,  and  the  immortal  odors  of  perfume  which  filled  the 
tingling  air  with  living  slumber.  All  of  the  halls  and 
chambers  were  hung  with  gorgeous  curtains;  some  heavy 
and  dusky,  others  light  and  thin,  that  waved  and  floated 
on  the  air  like  new  spider  spinnings  seen  to  swim  in  the 
liquid  light  of  early  morning..  The  handsome  ladies  with 
gay  and  gaudy  flowers  in  their  gauzy  hair  were  led  by 
gallant  seiiors;  going  here  and  there  in  perfect  happiness 
and  content.  The  table  at  which  they  all  assembled  for 
their  nightly  meal  was  made  of  rustic  oak  and  crowned 
with  a  polished  surface  of  green  marble.  Many  of  the 
platters  and  urns  on  the  table  were  of  gold  and  delicately 
carved.  Other  pieces  were  beautiful  Aztec  pottery,  deck- 
ed with  designs  of  flitting  butterflies  and  bending  reeds. 
All  spoons  were  crowned  with  a  large  opal  on  their  han- 
dles, surrounded  alternately  with  rings  of  gold  and  silver, 
thus  forming  a  beautiful  bull's  eye.    The  knives  had  pearl 


76 

handles,  while  the  forks  were  inlaid  with  moss  agate  and 
opal. 

Thus  they  lived  peacefully  for  years;  and  then  it  was 
rumored  that  other  Spaniards  down  south  had  heard  thru 
the  Aztecs  of  their  living  in  luxury,  and  were  going  to 
make  a  raid  on  them  in  the  village,  kill  them  and  confis- 
cate their  wealth.  Thus  was  their  wonderful,  luxurious 
living  to  come  to  such  a  disastrous  death.. 

They  were  all  astir  immediately,  for  they  feared  their 
lives  would  be  lost  in  the  skirmish ;  so  they  held  council  to 
devise  some  plan  of  escape. 

Now  it  happened  that  there  was  an  old  sage  among 
them  that  they  had  brought  from  Spain.  He  had  studied 
and  learned  from  old  Arabian  doctors,  much  of  the  old 
Egyptian,  Arabian,  and  Indian  lore  and  astrology,  and 
knew  how  to  translate  Egyptian  hieroglyphics,  Sanskrit, 
and  many  Indian  characters  used  by  Indian  doctors  in 
their  magic  and  witful  arts.  In  the  village  among  these 
young  and  luxurious  people  he  had  a  private  chamber 
where  he  retired  most  of  the  time  and  studied ;  and  where 
he  kept  many  magic  devices  for  solving  dufficult  prob- 
lems. 

Now  when  this  very  old  sage  and  doctor  was  sent  for 
he  appeared  before  the  rest  of  the  assemblage.  After 
hearing  all  their  troubles,  they  were  delighted  and  joyous 
when  he  stated  that  he  would  try  to  devise  a  plan  in  his 
magic  chamber  to  save  them  all.  He  then  retired,  stat- 
ing that  on  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  he  would  make 
known  his  results  to  them  at  another  general  assembly. 

Now  he  had  previously,  by  magic  means,  detected  the 
secret  of  the  spring  of  the  village  by  which  he  had  sec- 
retly kept  all  the  villagers  young.  This  is  what  he  discov- 
ered :  "Every  year  on  the  twenty-first  day  of«  February 
from  midnight  until  one  o'clock,  anyone  who  drank  of  the 
water  should  be  restored  to  youth."  By  knowing  this 
the  old  sage  had  secured  urns  full  of  the  water  at  the 
proper  time  each  year  and  kept  the  people  young  with- 
out them  realizing  it.  But  this  fact  had  dropped  from  the 
legend  of  the  present  population  of  the  village,  and  the 


77 

parts  that  were  known  were  thought  to  be  the  whims  of 
old  settlers. 

The  sage  worked  vigorously  for  four  days  and  nights 
and  burned  blue  lights  of  perfumed  oils;  and  early  on  the 
fifth  morning,  about  one  o'clock,  he  discovered,  by  means 
of  a  magic  candle,  burning  a  red  flame,  made  of  fat  from 
many  humming  birds,  miniature  figures  and  hieroglyphics 
on  the  foot  of  an  old  owl  which  had  died  in  his  magic 
chamber  of  old  age.  The  owl  had  been  purchased  by  him 
from  old  sages  of  northern  Africa  when  he  was  a  young 
man  studying,  and  it  had  been  told  him  by  the  sages  that 
the  owl  was  a  sage,  and  very  old,  by  tradition  among 
them  several  hundred  years;  and  to  keep  it  until  it  died 
and  then  save  all  the  preservable  parts.  This  he  had  done 
and  while  working  over  them  as  a  last  resort  he  made  the 
discovery  on  the  owl's  foot.  In  a  short  time,  by  many 
magic  means,  he  translated  the  heiroglyphic  writing, 
which  turned  out  to  be :  **Every  year  on  the  twenty-first 
day  of  February  from  midnight  to  one  o'clock,  if  anyone 
who  desired  a  wish  fulfilled  would  take  an  earthen  urn 
to  the  spring  and  fill  it  with  water  and  drop  in  it  a  paper 
on  which  the  wish  was  written,  after  being  in  the  water 
three  minutes  the  wish  would  be  granted ;  but  during  the 
same  hour  every  year  thereafter  the  earthen  urn  would 
appear  at  the  spring  and  be  exposed  while  this  fixed  hour 
passed." 

On  the  following  morning  there  was  an  assembly  as 
before  and  the  sage  gave  his  report,  quoting  the  trans- 
lation ;  and  explained  that  there  would  be  no  possible  way 
of  preventing  the  exposure  of  the  urn ;  but  he  explained 
that  there  would  be  little  or  no  danger,  as  the  jar  would 
be  exposed  but  one  hour  each  year,  and  that  at  night,  and 
that  no  one  other  person  knew  the  secret  and  would  not 
be  looking  for  it.  It  happened  that  the  twenty-first  day  of 
February  was  only  three  days  off ;  so  he  drew  up  the  fol- 
lowing paper:  "We  now  command  that  an  entrance  open 
at  the  foot  of  the  Old  Willow  Tree  on  the  brink  of  the 
swamp,  and  that  we  have  access  to  our  wished-for  underr 


78 

grround  palaces  with  all  our  wealth,  that  we  may  escape 
our  enemies." 

For  the  following  three  days  they  worked  gathering  all 
their  possessions  to  the  foot  of  the  Old  Willow  Tree  on  the 
brink  of  the  swamp,  so  that  the  moment  the  passage-way 
was  open  all  would  have  time  to  get  themselves  and  their 
possessions  inside  before  the  hour  passed  and  the  passage- 
way closed  up. 

At  midnight  on  the  twenty-first  day  of  February  the 
magician  dipped  the  urn  in  the  spring  and  placed  the  pa- 
per in  the  water  and  then  left  for  the  Old  Willow  Tree. 
Three  minutes  after  midnight  at  the  foot  of  the  Old 
Willow  Tree,  a  soft,  sweet  music  was  heard  and  a  beauti- 
ful marble  stairway  appeared,  leading  down  into  an  un- 
derground fairy-land.  Then  all  took  their  possessions 
and  went  down.  One  little  boy  forgot  and  left  his  quiver 
and  arrows  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  and  tore  loose  from  his 
mother  and  ran  up  after  them.  Just  then  the  time  was  up, 
and  the  sage  and  all  were  inside,  then  with  a  rumble  of 
underground  thunder  that  shook  the  earth,  the  stairway 
closed  forever.  The  poor  boy  outside  was  thus  separated 
from  his  friends  and  alone  in  the  world  above. 

Thus  on  the  following  day  they  were  living  in  wealth 
and  luxury  when  their  enemies  appeared  and  found  the 
village  deserted  except  for  the  poor  boy  who  was  left  out- 
side. One  man,  the  leader,  took  him  and  went  off;  and 
while  he  was  gone  the  others  were  very  angry  at  not  find- 
ing riches,  and  for  having  attempted  such  a  foolish  thing, 
using  just  the  tales  the  Aztecs  had  told  as  a  basis;  they 
fought  among  themselves  until  they  all  were  dead.  The 
poor  boy  told  his  tale  as  best  he  could  to  the  leader,  but 
in  telling  it  he  had  left  out  about  the  spring  and  its  power. 
After  a  few  days  the  boy  died  of  grief,  leaving  only  the 
legend  of  the  luxurious  people. 

Now  this  was  a  hard  year  for  Soto,  and  at  times  he  was 
forced  to  do  without  food  for  a  day  or  so.  One  night  he 
come  in  quite  late  with  his  empty  urns,  it  was  quite  dusky 
and  having  little  food  he  gave  it  to  his  wife  and  children 
and  went  to  bed.    Along  about  mid-night  he  was  wakened 


79 

by  his  wife  moaning.  He  got  up  and  found  that  she 
called,  "Water!  Water!"  He  took  up  a  pitcher  and  left 
the  house  for  the  spring.  On  arriving  he  saw  to  his  sur- 
prise a  strange  urn  sitting  by  it.  He  snatched  it  up,  looked 
inside  and  saw  a  paper;  he  caught  it  up  and  read  in  the 
bright  moonlight:  "We  now  command  that  an  entrance 
open  at  the  foot  of  the  Old  Willow  Tree  on  the  brink  of 
the  swamp,  that  we  have  access  to  our  wished  for  under- 
ground palaces  with  all  our  wealth ;  that  we  may  escape 
our  enemies."  For  an  instant  he  stood  dazed,  then  re- 
called the  legend  with  a  flash.  He  set  down  the  urn,  filled 
his  pitcher  quickly,  returned  to  his  wife  and  gave  her  the 
water;  snatched  up  a  piece  of  paper  and  wrote:  "En- 
chant immediately  all  things  in  the  palaces  at  the  foot  of 
the  Old  Willow  Tree  and  open  up  the  passage-way  to 
them."  After  throwing  it  in  the  jar  and  filling  it  with 
water  at  the  spring,  he  ran  through  the  silent  street  in 
the  bright  moonlight  to  the  Old  Willow  Tree.  By  fact 
he  had  rested  under  it  many  times  in  the  heat  of  the  day 
when  at  the  extremity  of  the  village ;  but  he  never  once 
thought  of  the  thing  which  came  upon  him  so  suddenly. 

Upon  arrival  at  the  tree,  he  saw  the  beautiful  marble 
stairway  and  rushed  down  into  the  underground  wonder- 
land. The  first  thing  he  saw  was  a  walk  hedged  by 
flowers  and  herbs  leading  to  a  beautiful  palace.  He  ran 
down  this  swiftly.  He  saw  cows  and  horses  in  the  mea- 
dows; but  they  were  as  stone — enchanted.  He  passed  a 
fountain — but  the  water  was  as  glass — enchanted,  and 
the  gilded  fish  therein  were  motionless.  He  stepped  in  the 
open  door  and  beheld  the  most  beautiful  room  he  had 
ever  seen,  and  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes.  He  hurried 
here  and  there  snatching  silk,  gold,  jewels,  and  whatever 
he  could.  When  over-loaded,  he  made  for  the  door  and 
walked  as  fast  as  he  could  under  the  weight,  and  climbed 
up  the  stairs  to  the  ground  above.  Just  as  he  stepped  out, 
there  was  a  rumble  that  shook  the  earth  and  the  stairway 
sank,  leaving  the  moon  shining  down  on  the  lonely  swamp 
shrouded  in  a  turquoise  mist  that  crept  from  reed  to  reed. 

He  ran  to  his  wife  up  the  cool,  ghastly  street,  with  his 


80 

wealth.  Upon  seeing  her  he  saw  that  she  was  young  and 
more  beautiful  than  she  had  ever  been  before.  He  was 
much  surprised  and  could  hardly  believe  it.  Finally  he 
took  from  his  treasures  a  beautiful  mirror  surrounded  by 
opals  set  in  silver  and  let  her  see  herself  in  the  bright 
moonlight.  She  saw  that  it  was  true.  Soto  was  quite 
worn  out,  so  he  took  up  the  pitcher  she  had  drunk  from, 
and  took  several  long  draughts.  Within  a  few  minutes 
his  face  became  young  and  carefree,  and  his  wife  told  him 
about  it;  he  looked  in  the  glass  and  saw  it  was  true.  He 
drew  her  close  to  him  and  they  embraced  in  the  quiet 
night. 

Just  then  a  quiet  shadow  flitted  across  the  moonlight 
that  slanted  in  the  open  door;  and  they  knew  someone 
had  seen  them  with  the  gold  and  jewels.  They  hurriedly 
put  them  out  of  sight  and  held  council.  They  decided  tc 
leave  that  night  before  the  village  heard  of  their  fortune 
from  the  one  who  had  seen  them.  They  collected  all  they 
could  carry  and  left  the  house  with  their  children.  Wher 
they  had  gone  but  a  few  rods,  they  saw  three  forms  in  th* 
shadows  and  in  an  instant  they  all  pounced  upon  Sotc 
Pico.  Soto  felt  skinny  fingers  clutch  his  throat;  he  gasped 
and  sank  in  silent  slumber.  His  wife  and  children  were 
then  struck  down ;  leaving  only  the  gold  and  the  legend  as 
a  proof  of  a  previous  people,  that  lived  in  luxurious 
wealth  and  leisure  long  before. 


81 
TO  THOMAS  A.  EDISON 

Master  ^bite  mechanic  mind ; 

The  essence  of  all  solving  thought 
Accumulates  in  thee, 
That  wondrous  mind, 
And,  Oh,  that  face, 
Has  often  brought  to  me 

For  hours  and  hours. 

Most  pleasant  thought. 

And  joyous  contemplation; 
No  other  face  the  world  o*er, 

Of  living  men  today, 
Expresses  half  so  much 

As  that  of  Edison. 

Your  memory  now  lives, 

And  always  will  live, 
Thru  all  humanity, 

Because  of  all  you  give. 
Of  multi-thousand  things, 

Which  helps  posterity. 

Oh,  wondrous  mind, 

O  wondrous  face ; 
I  cannot  find 

A  single  place. 
Half  high  enough  from  which  to 
sing  thy  praise ! 


TO  CHOPIN.  (No.  1.) 

Far  off  beyond  the  distant  skies. 
From  sun  to  sun,  from  star  to  star. 

The  throbs  of  mighty  music  swell 

Like  pulse  of  grand  ethereal  bell 
Till  all  the  harmonies  that  are 

Vibrate  beyond  where  last  light  dies. 


82 


Far  off  supreme  the  master  nods, 

And  great  pulsations  wander  forth 
And  hold  in  spell  the  mystic  Gods, 
Till  wondrous  melody  there  rings 
So  full  of  sweetest  sadness  sings 
That  Nature  and  the  Gods  away 
All  answer  with  a  sob  for  aye. 

Tho  masters  come  and  masters  die 
And  join  the  throng  beyond  the  sky. 
They  all  bow  low,  approach  him  slow, 
(The  master  of  them  all  they  know) 
And  lowly  kneel,  while  thus,  they  hear 

The  sweetest  mel6dy  of  love 
Float  forth  from  this  poetic  seer 

To  glide  beyond  all  space  above 
And  move  the  universe  to  tears. 


TO  RUBENSTEIN 


Could  I  have  only  heard  just  once 
The  grand  pulsations  of  your  soul, 

I  could  have  held  my  restless  self 
And  reached  the  grand  ethereal  goal. 

If  I  had  come  beneath  your  spell, 
I  could  have  been  well  satisfied 

To  dwell  in  solitude  and  peace. 
But  on  I  flee — for  you  have  died. 


83 
NEAR  THE  SEA 

Far  down  the  hill  past  cypress  tree 
The  sparkles  of  sunlight  shine 
Like  flashing  diamonds  on  the  btine — 

Upon  the  green-blue  sea. 

The  mists  where  ocean  meets  the  sky- 
Are  glowing  with  a  silver  gold, 
And  all  the  seething  sea  waves  hold 

The  deep  blue  of  the  sky. 

The  clutching  billows  crash  and  pound 
Against  the  crouching  rocky  crags, 
And  green  sea-weed  behind  them  lags, 

And  vacant  caves  resound. 

How  soft  the  sea  breeze  whispers  by. 
And  while  thus  speaking  soft  and  low 
Caresses  me  while  passing  slow, 

And  leaves  me  with  a  sigh. 


HOMO  ET  NATURA 


The  greatest  book  will  ne'er  be  made  , 
And  put  upon  a  printed  page 
To  rot  and  mould  in  moments  few; 

The  greatest  book  was  writ  and  laid, 
Upon  the  rocks  through  age  on  age. 
And  will  a  thousand  ages  new. 

The  greatest  music  ne'er  will  be 
Heard  in  a  hall  by  concert  light. 
And  made  by  mortal  small  and  weak; 

The  greatest  world  symphony 

Will  always  be  the  wind  at  night, 

The  birds,  and  when  the  Tree  tops  speak, 


84 

When  softly  swayed  by  Ijreeze  at  morn, 
The  brook  soft  singing  in  the  spring, 
The  patter  of  the  gentle  rain, 

The  tinkle  of  cowbells  forlorn, 

The  thunder  that  the  lightnings  bring, 
And  crickets  in  the  spring-time  grain. 

The  greatest  chimes  o'er  all  the  Earth 
Will  ne'er  be  found  in  belfry  tower. 
Will  ne'er  be  in  cathedral  found; 

The  greatest  chimes,  of  greatest  worth 
Is  Ocean,  which  by  hour  on  hour 
Gives  forth  its  grand  sonorous  sound. 

The  sweetest,  most  religious  light 

Will  ne'er  be  found  'neath  stained-glass  pane 

In  old  cathedral  built  of  yore ; 
Between  the  hours  of  day  and  night 

Does  glory  of  Heaven  on  Earth  hold  reign, 

And  will  a  thousand  ages  more. 

The  greatest  sermon  ever  heard 

Will  ne'er  be  preached  within  four  walls. 
And  by  one  learned  in  his  creed; 

The  desert  speaks  without  a  word, 
And  to  the  way-worn  traveler  calls 
More  deep  than  priest  will  ever  read. 


85 


WHY 

The  Earth  moves  on  and  rolls  itself 

With  wfondrous  rhythm  o'er  and  o'er 

And  has  a  thousand  million  years 

And  will  a  thousand  million  more ; 

If  you  should  die  would  Earth  weep  tears 

And  thus  bewail  your  loss  as  I? 

When  ^eat  men  die  the  Earth  moves  on 

And  night  still  follows  after  day; 

Are  not  the  Romans  dead  and  gone, 

Have  not  the  Greeks  long  passed  away? 

The  heartless  Ocean  grinds  and  groans 

Along  its  ever-changing  shores; 

Kingdoms  rise  and  kingdoms  fall 

And  Ocean  doesn't  care  at  all. 

Race  after  race  of  man  goes  by 

And  just  as  certain  each  one  falls. 

Still  rolls  the  Earth,  still  chimes  the  Sea, 

Still  murmur  soft  the  waterfalls; 

What  care  the  twinkling  stars  on  high? 

What  care  the  breezes  o'er  the  lea? 

Fast  perish  all  the  beasts  that  are 

And  all  the  beasts  that  are  to  be ; 

Still  twinkles  brightly  each  sun  star 

And  will  ten  trillion  ages  new ; 

The  Dinosaurus,  Mastodon, 

And  all  the  crawling  things  that  were 

By  millions  in  the  vast  deep  blue 

Of  Ocean,  have  departed,  gone; 

And  in  the  future  naught  shall  stir 

Upon  this  planet  vast  and  dead. 

The  restless  sea  shall  move  no  more ; 

The  Desert  shall  consume  the  Sea, 

And  all  that  were  and  are  to  be, 

While  rolls  the  Earth  serenely  on 

And  follows  Sun  its  way  upon. 

(What? 

Where? 

And  Why?) 


86 
GENTLE  RAIN 

I  love  the  gentle  dripping  rain 

That  drizzles  slowly  down  on  everything 
With  sweeter  poetry  than  breezes  sing, 

While  fluid  hands  caress  the  window  pane. 

If  I  were  but  a  Chopin  I  would  try 

To  form  a  melody  so  sweetly  sung 
That  e*en  the  raindrops  falling  from  the  sky 

Would  stop  to  mingle  with  the  sounds  among ; 
And  flowers  drinking  in  the  sweet  rain  near 

Would  turn  angelic  faces  half  around 
To  better  catch  the  magic  sounds,  and  hear; 

And  it  would  sing  so  truly  wonderful, 
That  once  a  mortal  ever  heard  a  strain 
It  would  so  deep  impress  his  wondrous  brain 
That  he  would  ne'er  forget  the  tune  again, 
And  he  would  weep  whene'er  he  heard  the  rain 
And  think  great  thoughts  too  deep  to  put  in  words ; 

If  I  were  but  a  Chopin  I  would  sing ! 

Oh.  how  I  love  to  hear  the  gentle  rain 
When  in  the  early  evening  I  repose 

Before  the  brilliance  of  the  dancing  fire ; 
What  joy!  It  is  not  for  me  to  disclose 

With  clumsy  words,  'twould  take  ethereal  lyre. 


87 

OH,  OCEAN! 

With  all  the  throbbing  woe 

Of  times  past  long  ago 

The  moaning  of  the  sea 

Comes  clearly  now  to  me, 
Brought  by  the  willy-nilly  wind 
Across  the  waste  of  sand — 
Across  the  salt  marsh  land. 

The  ships  of  Spanish  main 

Sink  in  the  sea  again. 

And  upward  goes  the  wail 

Of  soldiers  of  the  sail, 
The  white  caps  skip  across  the  crests 
Of  weaves,  and  laugh  and  play, 
But  secrets  ne'er  give  'way. 

Oh !  countless  millions  moan 

With  never-ending  groan 

Along  the  breaker  line 

With  never  yet  a  sign 
To  rest  their  weary  souls  within 
The  deep,  and  quick  forget 
The  fate  with  which  they  met. 

Again  the  Norsemen  sail 
Before  the  pounding  gale. 
Across  the  unknown  seas 
With  sturdy  Norseman  ease ; 
They  land  in  countries  far  away 
There  only  to  explore. 
Then  off  for  home  once  more. 

Far  thru  the  centuries 
I  hear,  brought  by  the  breeze. 
The  never  ending  story 
Of  Ocean's  heartless  glory; 
The  ever  moaning  wail  along 

The  shore  with  sadness  throbs 
In  grand  majestic  sobs. 


88 


Thru  age  and  age  long  past, 
Ere  time  of  sail  or  mast, 
Has  Ocean  clutched  and  claimed 
With  jealous  greed  untamed 
The  ever  countless  millions  who 

Have  roamed  the  wilderness    . 
In  utter  joyousness. 

Each  rock  in  every  land 
Was  clutched  in  Ocean's  hand 
And  thrown  about  the  shore 
In  some  age  long  before 
The  savage  beasts  of  sylvan  wild 

Roamed  forth  to  prey  upon 

Gigantic  Mastodon. 

The  millions  wailing  in 

The  breakers'  muffled  din 

Are  calling  now  for  me 

To  join  them  in  the  sea; 
With  magic  soothing  sweetness  seem 
To  call  with  grand  profound 
Deep  pathos,  all  around. 

I  shudder  and  grow  cold, 
Spell  bound,  while  voices  hold 
Me  with  their  wondrous  chant, 
Vd  join  them, — but  I  can't 
Persuade  myself  to  yield  unto 
Their  call ;  but  still  within 
Mel  hear:  "Enter  in." 


89 

MY  DREAM  PIANIST 

(To  Alec  W.  Anderson.) 

Swinging, — swaying, — back  and  on, 

From  the  shades  of  Chaoty; 
Comes  a  shimmer  like  a  fawn. 

Seen  in  woodland  gaiety. 
Shimmers  waver,  then  grow  strong. 

And  then  golden  light  discloses; 
One  that  plays  a  mystic  song. 

On  a  misty  seat  reposes. 

With  a  movement  soft  and  slow. 

When  the  haze  again  is  parted; 
From  the  fairest  fingers  flow. 

Such  sweet  sounds  as  never  started 
From  a  mortal's  hands  before ; 

Up  they  glide,  then  high  repose. 
Like  perfume  that  evermore 

Haunts  above  the  red,  red  rose. 

Now  the  music  murmurs  sweet, 

Telling  how  the  planets  glide; 
How  the  stars  are  quick  and  fleet 

To  move  across  the  wide 
Long  gaps  of  ether  spaces; 

How  that  mystery  abides 
In  all  queer  and  vacant  places; 

Now  the  murmur  circling  glides. 

Now  the  hands  are  skipping  fast: — 

How  the  grass  in  meadows  sway ; 
Bright,  clear  brooks  are  flowing  past 

To  the  rivers  far  away ; 
Thru  the  creeping  veils  of  mist, 

Lighted  up  with  golden  haze ; 
Come  sweet  lays  of  fingers  kist,* 

Memories  of  bygone  days. 


90 


Is  it  now  that  echoes  play, 

From  the  w^lls  of  mist  and  dark? 
Now  the  echoes  die  away, 

Like  the  raptured  soaring  lark. 
From  the  song  of  soundlessness. 

Swells  again  the  beautious  lay, 
With  the  sounds  of  nothing  less. 

Than  the  joys  of  yesterday. 


Music  floW3  with  all  sweet  sounds, 

That  ever  touched  a  mortal's  ear; 
At  the  seat  one  sways  and  bounds. 

Playing  strains  that  angels  hear. 
Mists  around  wrap  all  from  sight, 

And  the  sounds  collect  each  other; 
But  again  there  bursts  out  light, 

And  there  issues  yet  another. 

#  «  *  *  4>  * 

Sounds  grow  dim  and  lights  repose. 

For  the  lights  and  sounds  are  fleet, 
Still  the  ebon  shades  disclose. 

One  that  sways — while  tones  repeat. 
Swinging, — swaying, — back  and  on. 

Now  the  sounds  themselves  repress; 
And  the  lights  fade  and  are  gone. 

Through  a  gap  of  nothingness. 


91 
THE  FOUNTAIN 

On  still  and  starry  night, 

0*er  near  yon  cypress  tree, 
A  star  reflects  its  light, 

On  drops  of  mercury — 

On  drops  of  mercury 

So  seem  those  drops  to  be 
As  vanish  in  the  darkness  whence  they  sprung, 

They  sing  in  revelry! 
While  playing  with  the  harp  notes  merrily 
My  heart  strings  ring  as  ne'er  before  were  rung. 

Yon  tinkling  tones  ethereal, 

Even  as  yon  starlight  ray. 
Rise  in  murmurs  lyrical. 

Till  most  gaudy  breaks  the  day. 

n 

From  shadowy  dusk  of  garden  walks. 

While  rises  the  moon  above  the  hedge, 
The  fountain  in  musical  laughter  mocks 
The  darkest  of  shadows  by  garden  edge. 
Gently  a  breeze 
Sifts  thru  the  trees, 
Singing  a  song  of  harmonies ; 
Loitering  here 
In  moonlight  clear 
Musically  playing  within  its  sphere. 
The  fountain  is  bubbling  joy; 
The  perfume  of  roses  is  everywhere ; 

A  lone  star  struggles  straight  over  head 
To  send  just  one  ray  to  the  garden  there. 

A  breeze  in  the  trees: 
The  moon's  mellow  light; 
A  fountain  to  dance 
V      And  sparkle  all  night, 


92 

And  sing  *mid  perfume 
Of  roses;  perchance 
A  ray  of  lone  star; 
For  you,  all  of  these, 
And  I — if  you  please, 
For  you. 

My  love. 
And  I. 

III 

The  lightning  cuts  the  storm-swept  sky, 

Which  with  the  earth  seems  void  and  black, 

While  flashing  blinds  the  human  eye, 
Or  if  not  turned  toward  the  flash, 
Paints  all  behind  in  dazzling  hue; 

Then  thunder  rolls  and  seems  to  smash 

The  Universe;  with  crash  on  crash. 

The  whole  air  shakes,  and  all  the  earth ; 
With  still  no  clue — 
To  hesitate; 

The  fountain  bubbles  black. 
And  sparkles  blackness; 

And  singing,  makes  no  sound ; 

And  shaking  still,  the  ground 
Shakes  fountain  brink. 


TO  WILLIAM  WENDT 

All  Nature  glows  with  sweetest  smiles 
And  kindles  fast  love's  smouldering  fires 
And  all  the  painter's  past  desires 
To  do  still  better  she  inspires. 

Her  humblest  and  sincerest  child ; 

He  learned  from  her,  and  still  will  learn 
As  long  as  love  within  him  burn 
He  will  not  from  his  tutor  turn 

To  seek  another  in  the  wild. 


93 


What  e'er  it  be  the  brush  portrays; 

Of  hills,  or  mountains,  field  or  stream. 
In  draughtsmanship  he  stands  supreme ; 
Accomplishes  what  others  dream. 

And  in  each  composition  lies 
The  most  exquisite  of  design. 
All  intertwined  superbly  fine 
With  wonderfully  rhythmic  line, 

Till  all  description  it  defies. 

But  greater  than  these  virtues  told 
Is  all  the  wondrous  harmony 
Of  colors,  for  his  poetry 
To  his  greatness  is  the  key ; 

The  giant  of  the  age  he  stands. 
The  wondrous  master  that  he  is, 
A  most  poetic  soul  is  his. 
While  paints  he  most  poetic  lands 

With  brush  and  palette  in  his  hands. 


AT    LAGUNA 


The  rocky  caverns  issue  forth  a  muffled  roar, 

And  wearily  do  to  the  waves  complain; 
While  circling  seagulls  squawk  as  higher  up  they  soar; 

And  there  beneath  the  rocks  the  crabs  yet  reign. 
Where  waters  washing  up  and  back  all  white  with  foam 

Which  sparkles  fast  away  the  dusky  gloom 
That  seems  to  so  enshroud  the  cliffs'  high  tw'ry  dome. 
And  dark,  harsh  rocks  that  from  the  waters  loom. 
Up  and  back,  up  and  back, 
Up  and  back  they  go ; 
Down  they  slide,  up  they  glide. 
Western  breezes  blow; 
Over  the  rocks  and  ridges, 
Rippling  fast  you  know ; 
Washing  up  under  the  bridges. 
Made  by  the  sea  long  ago. 


94 


Wave  each  wave  is  chasing, 

All  of  them  are  racing — 

Up  the  sand  where  sands  are  found, 

Over  the  rocks  where  rough  the  ground, 

'Gainst  the  cliffs  with  thund'rous  sound, 

Over  themselves,  and  then  around — 

Back  to  come  up  again ; — 

Back  to  come  up  again. 


YELFENSO 

Far  out  across  the  paling  hills, 

With  accent  long  and  low. 
There  comes  a  distant  sound  that  trills 

Above  the  breeze's  blow; 
And  swells  the  scented  air  and  fills 
The  valley  with  its  flow ; 

Until  the  throbbing  echoes  sound. 
With  accents  falling  all  around. 
Then  bounding  from  the  grassy  ground — 
It  rises  slowly  higher,  higher. 
Up  toward  the  sunset's  fire. 
And  with  sound  of  fading  lyre. 
Sails  on  toward  the  brightening  stars ! 

I've  heard  that  sound  at  evening  time 

When  softly  hums  the  breeze ; 
And  oft  it  lifted  with  a  rhyme. 

That  glided  thru  the  trees; 
Then  up  the  hillside  it  would  climb, 
And  all  the  shrubbery  seize ; 

And  shake  their  leaves  both  to  and  fro. 
And  up  and  down,  divinely  slow, 
Until  it  made  them  vibrate  so 
That  all  the  birds  ceased  their  sweet  singing. 
To  listen  to  the  accents  ringing, 
And  rustle  to  the  leaves'  slow  swinging, — 
Till  slowly  died  the  evening  song. 


95 


I  love  that  sound  that  late  of  day. 
Comes  soft  and  sweet  to  me ; 

That  trill  that  comes  across  the  way 
And  floats  down  o'er  the  lea ; 

I  wish  that  it  could  always  stay, 
And  vibrate  in  that  key ; 

But  ah !  too  soon  it  slowly  dies 
And  sails  toward  the  fading  skies, 
•    And  now  the  echo  but  replies, 
To  my  sad  heart  so  dull  and  broken, 
While  I  give  up  my  only  token, — 
My  love — to  those  sweet  accents  broken,- 

That  linger  in  my  memory. 


SHADY  NOOKS 


Far  o*er  in  the  shadow'y  trees'  deep  shade, 

Is  where  I  like  to  repose; 
On  the  fresh  green  grass,  near  moss  and  fern, 

By  the  vine  of  the  sweet  wild  rose. 

Where  the  rustling  leaves  sing  a  lullaby 
And  the  birds'  sweet  notes  float  down ; 

And  the  "bossy  cows  moo"  in  the  pastures  by, 
In  a  sweet  and  soothing  tone. 

By  the  little  green  twigs  where  the  lichens  grow, 

And  the  spider  spins  afar; 
Where  the  busy  bee  hums  around  below. 

By  the  queenly  shooting  star. 

Where  the  butterfly  comes  a-flitting  in, 

From  out  the  bright  sunshine, 
And  a  sunbeam  comes  a-knitting  in, 

In  a  dancing  brilliant  line. 


96 


By  the  cricket's  twer  so  soft  and  sweet; 

And  the  black  ant's  silent  tread; 
With  a  tuft  of  ^ass  down  at  my  feet, 

And  a  cushion  of  grass  at  my  head ; 

And  thus  I  lie  with  all  things  by, 
And  every  woodland  sound; 

With  nothing  nigh  to  cause  a  sigh 
In  the  whole  wide  world  around. 

Till  sinks  the  sun  in  the  western  sky, 
And  the  rustling  leaves  are  still ; 

Oh !  who  would  miss  a  joy  like  this 
For  memory's  silent  rill! 


TO  MME.  ELLEN  BEACH  YAW.  (Her  Singing) 

1913. 

Echo!  Echo!  fall  thou  hither, 

Bringing  back  those  accents  long; 

Do  not  let  them  wither,  wither — 
Bring  once  more  to  me  the  song! 

Louder — softer — sweeter — lower — , 

Soaring  up  into  the  sky! 
Sadder — higher — upward — slower — , 

Now  they  float  down  from  on  high. 

Lifting — waving — dancing   ever — , 

To  and  fro,  and  up,  and  on; 
Winging  up — ,  and  on  forever. 

With  the  movement  of  a  fawn. 

Now  they  follow  one  another ; 

Now  they  waver  with  delight; 
Now  they  sail  on — and  farther, 

Higher! —  higher!  out  of  sight. 


97 


Fainter — ,  fainter — ,  they  are  growing, 
Mystic — ,  magic — ,  wonderful; 

Rippling  faster,  ever  flowing. 
Passing  the  most  beautiful. 

Echo !  Echo !  fall  thou  hither, 

Bringing  back  those  accents  long; 

Do  not  let  them  wither — ,  wither — , 
Bring  once  more  to  me  the  song! 


A  PAINTER'S  SONG 


"I  painted  a  scene  when  the  hills  were  green, 

And  the  clouds  were  yellow  as  gold ; 
From  sparkles  of  dew  to  far  hills  that  were  blue, 

There  was  mystery  fold  on  fold. 

"A  soft  golden  haze  was  sifting  in  rays. 

All  over  the  meadow  and  trees; 
And  made  the  whole  glow,  as  the  sun  would  on  snow. 

In  a  biting  and  wintry  breeze. 

**A  man  came  to  look  and  the  canvas  he  took. 

For  a  sum  that  was  light  in  my  hand ; 
He  went  fast  away  with  the  canvas  that  day. 

And  disappeared  out  of  the  land. 

******** 

"And   still   my   soul   yearns,   and   yet  my   heart  burns. 

For  canvas,  and  paint,  and  a  brush ; 
I  know  I  could  draw  a  scene  without  flaw. 

And  the  cruelest  of  critics  would  hush. 

"The  canvas  I  sold  for  a  small  piece  of  gold, 

I  know  is  now  watched  by  a  saint; 
But  another  I  fear  I  shall  never  draw  here. 

For  poverty  stops  my  paint — 

For  poverty  stops  my  paint!" 


98 


THE  WIZARD— OLD  BALDY 

When  the  sun  with  his  head  of  blazing  red, 

Is  sinking  in  the  west, 
And  o'er  the  dome  of  the  fathomless  sky, 

Flinging  yellows  and  reds  in  quest 
Of  the  clutching  fingers  of  night  that  ply 

In  the  east  *neath  the  floor  of  the  Earth ; 
When  the  valley  is  full  of  hush,  and  is  still, 

Save  the  tinkling  of  worldly  mirth, 
And  the  meadow  lark  over  the  hill ; 

Then  at  a  dizzy  and  princely  height. 
Stands  the  Wizard  of  old  in  his  blanket  cold, 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 

The  clouds  float  'round  o'er  yon  rough  ground. 

And  creep  from  pine  to  pine ; 
Across  ravine  in  form  serene, 

They  sail  in  noisless  line; 
From  rock  to  rock  they  clutch  and  screen 

Thy  view  from  all  below; 
From  time  to  time  the  sun  bursts  thru. 

And  melts  thy  mists  to  show 
To  those  down  there  where  cold  winds  blew 

Through-out  the  frosty  night; 
O'er  thy  proud  breast  of  snow  hard  prest. 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 

You  stand  way  up  and  often  sup 

The  snow  from  out  the  clouds ; 
When  they  around  you  heave  and  bound. 

In  rolling  feathery  shrouds. 
Down  from  your  top  so  kingly  crowned 

Are  three  long  fuiTows  wide, 
That  start  up  near  your  rounding  cheeks. 

And  cut  far  down  your  side. 
You  tower  above  yon  other  peaks. 

We  marvel  at  the  sight; 
With  all  your  crags  and  pine-tree  snags. 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 


99 


In  days  of  yore  and  long  before 

The  white  man  tarried  here ; 
Along  the  coast  without  a  boast 

There  plodded  year  on  year, 
The  fathers  old  to  make  the  most 

Of  all  men  they  could  find; 
They  came  not  after  things  to  sell, 

Nor  gold  that  could  be  mined; 
They  came  out  here  to  save  from  hell. 

And  teach  the  red  men  right; 
While  you  stood  by  with  head  up  high. 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 

In  olden  days  of  Bret  Harte  lays. 

When  miners  roamed  the  land; 
And  those  most  bold  would  hunt  for  gold 

Along  the  desert's  sand ; 
When  they  would  suffer  heat  and  cold. 

And  almost  starve  to  death ; 
And  live  in  lonely  mountain  place 

Until  their  one  last  breath : 
Then  you  stood  up  with  wrinkled  face. 

And  rugged  limbs  of  might. 
As  watchman  o*er  the  valley's  floor — 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 

When  gold  was  gone  and  man  was  done 

With  all  such  luck  and  strife ; 
He  spread  below  the  melted  snow 

And  led  a  different  life. 
He  planted  slowly,  row  on  row 

Across  the  watered  sand, 
Of  living  gold,  and  gardens  wide. 

And  brightened  up  the  land. 
And  now  the  sunbeams  gaily  ride 

About  the  valley  bright, 
Which  was  once  sand.     But  still  you  stand 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 


100 

When  sun  is  high  up  in  the  sky, 

And  fills  the  world  aglow ; 
Then  gardens  spread  with  oranges  red 

Across  the  plains  below ; 
From  hills  on  south  to  mountain's  shed, 

They  stretch  in  endless  line ; 
And  east,  and  west  in  valleys  run ; 

In  liquid  bright  sunshine ; 
Then  back  of  all  and  finely  spun 

With  World's  daily  light. 
You  stand  up  gay  in  bright  array — 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 

Along  across,  when  sun's  emboss 

Has  faded  fast  away. 
And  all  the  breeze  and  hushes  seize 

The  Valley's  silent  lay; 
Then  slowly  creep  from  bloom  to  leaves. 

To  bloom  again — and  then. 
Such  spasm's  of  perfume  float  'round 

That  charm  both  beasts  and  men ; 
While  far  above  the  scented  ground, 

*Tis  not  for  scent  but  sight ; 
From  rock  to  rock  thy  snows  o'erlock 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 

Man  comes  along  with  Triumph's  song. 

To  arid  places  here ; 
And  water  guides  across  the  wide 

Dry  valleys  far  and  near ; 
And  all  around  you  hear  him  chide: 

"What  wonders  have  I  done." 
But  if  you  were  not  snowy  crowned. 

He  could  not  so  have  won. 
He  changes  all  the  plains  around. 

And  sometime  wins  the  fight; 
But  o'er  the  range  you  do  not  change, 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 


i  J\' i \ 


101 


Man  struts  and  stares  and  has  no  cares, 

And  puffs  his  chest  up  high ; 
Points  here  and  there  with  hand  in  air, 

And  bluffs:  ''How  great  am  I!" 
But  only  wait  until  future  fare 

When  earth  is  growing  cold. 
And  one  last  man  stands  on  a  crag, 

Trying  his  life  to  hold ; 
Then  you  stand  up.  Eternal's  flag. 

And  smile  at  the  sight; 
Ah !  you  have  won  o'er  all  his  fun, — 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 

As  long  as  Sun  his  course  does  run, 

As  he  has  run  of  yore ; 
As  long  as  Moon  at  night's  dark  noon. 

Shines  as  she  has  before ; 
As  long  as  Ocean  beats  his  tune. 

Upon  the  caves  and  sand; 
As  long  as  Rivers  wend  their  way 

Across  the  lengthy  land ; 
As  long  as  Night  comes  after  Day ! 

You  at  a  dizzy  height. 
Will  tower  and  frown,  with  brilliant  crown. 

Majestic, — serene, — and  white. 


102 
LOVE 

Who  has  a  perfect  soul? 

Me?  Not  I. 
Who  in  this  world  old 

Cannot  die? 
Love  has  a  perfect  soul, 

Above  all, 
Else  in  the  world  whole. 

Can  but  fall. 

True  love  of  other  loves, 

Cannot  die; 
It  does  as  peace  doves. 

Flies  on  high. 
All  earth  is  full  of  love, 

Everywhere ; 
In  the  valleys,  up  above, 

Here  and  there. 

I  love  the  grasses  green. 

Trees  and  birds; 
With  a  love  none  has  seen 

Put  in  words. 
Each  petal  of  a  flower 

I  love  too ; 
Each  fern,  every  bower; 

Do  not  you? 

Every  house ;  street ;  town ; 

Seem  to  me — 
One  row  of  loves  off  down, 

To  the  sea. 
Every  shell,  rock,  wave. 

That  I  see, 
Look  as  if  they  gave 

Love  to  thee. 


103 
THE  HAUNTING  TRAIL 

Ha!  Ha!  just  wait  *till  work'  is  done, 

You'll  see  your  Uncle  pack  his  freight 
For  parts  that  are  to  you  unknown; 

You'll  see  him  go,  and  he'll  not  wait 
For  grass  to  grow  along  his  trail. 

If  you  should  hap'  by  chance  to  be 
Up  in  some  cool  and  cozy  camp, 

And  see  your  Uncle  passing,  free 
From  all  the  cares  of  bygone  days; 

Then  you  will  know  the  reason  why 
He's  pitched  his  tent  where  pine  tree  sways. 

If  you  should  ask  your  Uncle  why 

He  hangs  around  up  there  alone ; 
He'd  grin  from  ear  to  ear  and  say : 

**I  love  to  hear  the  pine  trees  moan, 
And  wail  unto  the  wierd  moon,  that 

Shoots  with  ghastly  beams  at  midnight. 
And  makes  the  sad  sepulchral  tones. 

More  sad  because  of  its  dim  light; 
I  love  to  glide  like  spirit  thin. 

And  dance  across  a  moon-lit  space, 
Then  dart  back  into  shades  again. 

"I  love  to  climb  among  the  crags. 

That  rear  their  hardy  heights 
To  buffet  everlasting  time ; 

The  huge  grey  cliff  that  fights 
The  piercing  of  the  wailing  wind. 

And  freezing  of  the  winter's  snow ; 
The  water-fall  that  slips  its  silvery  self 

From  moss  and  fern,  to  moss  and  fern  below, 
I  love  to  wander  near  in  solitary  mood, 

And  with  my  solitary  self, — 
But  for  the  spirit  of  the  lonely  wood." 


104 

A  WANDERER'S  SONG 

When  I  sit  around  the  fire, 
In  the  shadow  of  the  pines, 

And  I  hear  the  hoot  owl  hooting  up  on  high ; 
And  the  misty  moon  up  higher 
With  her  countless  silver  lines. 

Shines  so  ghastly  thru  the  needles  from  the  sky; 
Then  my  thoughts  of  ancient  ages 
Come  upon  my  vacant  mind. 

When  the  pine  trees  'neath  whose  shadows  now  I 
bow; 
Were  the  seeds  of  olden  sages 

Who  this  shore  then  must  have  lined 

And  so  whispered  like  the  pines  about  me  now. 
Ah !  the  ages  past  do  grip  me, 
And  they  tremble  me  with  awe. 

All  the  times  that  ever  have  been  here-to-fore ; 
How  the  grandeurs  of  them  ship  me 
Back  beyond  man's  trifling  law. 

To  the  eons  that  have  washed  up  long  before. 

Oh !  how  weary,  yet  not  lonely 
In  the  solitudes  am  I, 

Far  from  man  of  any  kindred  race  or  kind ; 
And  I  stretch  my  body  bonely 

'Neath  the  pine  trees  standing  by, 

So  that  I  may  better  use  my  pensive  mind. 
Ah !  the  fire  bums  so  brightly 
In  the  dusky  shadows  'round 

And  the  blue  smoke  twines  about  the  lazy  air; 
And  the  resin  oozes  slightly 

From  the  pine-knots  on  the  ground 

As  the  fire  slowly  burns  them  lying  there. 
Up  still  higher  climbs  the  thin  smoke 
Where  it  soon  will  disappear. 

And  the  flickering  fire  flashes  high, — then  low ; 
While  the  deepest  shadows'  heads  poke, 
From  the  pines  so  ghastly  near, 

As  the  fire's  blazes  waver  to  and  fro. 


105 

When  the  rushing,  foaming'  river 
Rumbles  loud  along  its  shore, 

And  the  foam  is  dashing  high  with  ringing  glee; 
And  the  pine  trees  slightly  quiver 
As  they  have  since  days  of  yore, 

Then  my  olden  first-bomed  thoughts  come  back  to 
me; 
Ah !  the  moon*s  soft  ancient  halo 
That  around  her  runs  tonight 

In  the  mists  that  hang  about  her  flawless  form; 
Makes  me  think  when  I  would  lay  low, 
With  my  mother  in  my  sight. 

In  my  inner  eyeless  sight,  while  raged  a  storm. 
Do  I  see  her  face  now  beaming 
In  the  dreary  moon-lit  mist, 

With  a  moon-like  halo   floating  *round  her  head? 
Is  it  true  or  am  I  dreaming? 

Ah !  my  brain  has  been  moon-kist. 

For  it  cannot  be  my  mother — she  is  dead. 
Far  from  the  distant  heights  there's  falling, 
One  great  landslip — hear  it  slide ! 

From  the  rocky  heights  above  the  river's  edge ; 
Hear  the  echoes!    Hear  them  calling? 
Of  the  crashing  rocks  they  chide. 

As  they  bound  and  rebound  on  from  ledge  to  ledge. 
Now  the  pines  take  up  the  chanting 
As  the  clatter  dies  away, 

From  pine  to  pine  the  murmur  leaps  along;    • 
While  the  moon-beams  still  a-slanting. 
Dance  again  and  lightly  play, 

To  the  music  of  the  fairies'  soundless  song. 
Sink  I  now  into  a  slumber 
For  the  hour's  growing  late. 

And  the  fire's  golden  embers  softly  glow; 
And  the  sandmen  without  number 
All  about  me  stand  and  wait, 

For  me  silently  to  sink  in  dreamland,  slow. 


106 

DREAMING 

Dreaming,  dreaming,  drifting  along  in  a  dream. 
Drifting,  drifting,  drifting  along  on  a  stream ; 

Drifting  in  shades  and  in  shadows. 

Gliding  through  mystified  meadows, — 
Swaying,  swinging,  gliding  along  on  the  breeze. 

Now  under  low  weeping  willow, 

Always  with  mist  for  a  pillow ; 
Dreaming  ,dreaming,  dreaming  of  all  things  that  are 
Guiding,  guiding,  guiding  our  dream  with  a  star; 

Into  infinity  passing. 

Watching  the  mists  in  clouds  massing ; 
Dreaming  we — wend,  dreams  without  end ; — 

Dreaming,  ever  dreaming. 


—BUT  ALL  OF  US  ANGELS  ARE 

Some  of  us  are  good,  some  of  us  are  bad, 

But  all  of  us  angels  are ; 
For  the  best  of  the  good  are  as  bad  as  the  bad. 

As  it's  bad  to  be  good  without  mar; 
And  the  worst  of  the  bad  are  as  good  as  the  good, 

For  they  to  themselves  are  true. 
They  do  from  their  heart  and  do  as  they  would. 

And  they  number  with  those  of  the  few 
That  blame  not  the  bad  because  they  are  bad, 

And  these  are  one  class  that  there  be ; 
And  there  are  the  good ;  the  both  good  and  bad ; 

And  these  are  all  that  we  see. 

If  the  good  of  the  world  are  angels  true. 

Or  sometime  are  to  be ; 
Then  the  worst  of  the  bad  are  angels  too, 

For  the  good  are  the  worst  of  the  three. 
We  are  all  to  blame  for  what  everyone  does, 


107 

So  we  are  as  bad  as  they ; 
Then  why  should  a  few  so  eternally  buzz, 

Of  their  goodness  from  day  to  day? 
We  are  from  All,  tho  great  or  small. 

And  to  All  we  again  shall  return ; 
Tho  you  think  you  are  big,  you  are  only  a  prig 

And  as  low  as  the  lowest  you  spurn. 

The  good  are  as  bad  as  any  we  meet. 

And  worse  than  most  that  we  know, 
For  it's  a  sin  to  sit  in  an  angel's  seat, 

In  this  world  of  work  and  woe; 
It's  the  worst  we  can  do  as  good  to  poese. 

The  worst  of  hypocrisy; 
Why  some  of  us  do  it  God  only  knows, 

It's  not  for  you  or  for  me ; 
The  worst  of  us  do  not  follow  the  fad. 

And  are  the  truest  of  all  by  far;  i 

Some  of  us  are  good,  some  of  us  are  bad, 

BUT  ALL  OF  US  ANGELS  ARE! 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  HEARTLESS 

Worn  out, — far  off, — alone, — 

I  sink  upon  the  sand ; 
I'm  hungry  to  the  bone. 

And  now  I  cannot  stand ; 
All  day  the  sun  has  shone 

And  beat  me  down  until 

I  sink  down  limp,  and  still. 

With  long  drawn  moan 

I  hear  the  tone 
Of  wailing  locomotive  far 

Away  across  the  desert  hills. 

And  maddest  sadness  fills 
My  body  with  a  pang;  the  star 
Of  evening  just  begins  to  twinkle  in 

The  brilliant  light  along  the  west; 


108 


While  all  around  the  silence  once  again 
Is  broken  by  that  long-drawn,  whining  groan 
Which  makes  a  heaving  of  the  lonely  breast 
And  makes  the  hungry  heart  refuse  to  rest. 

While  in  the  distance  dies  the  lone  last  wail, 

It  seems  to  thus  embody  all  the  woe 
Of  thousands  who  have  died  along  the  trail 

Across  the  desert,  many  years  ago ; 
Or  seems  the  profound  pathos  to  contain 

Of  failing  swan-song  of  a  dying  race ; 
Or  of  the  maddening  chill 

Where  silences  obtain 
And  sweep  the  failing  mind 

Into  a  world  insane, 
In  some  lone  frigid  and  deserted  place; 

Or  like  the  desert  moaning  of  the  past; 
Or  like  the  Universe  in  wailing  song 

Asks  how,  and  where,  and  why  itself  must  last 
Without  an  end,  down  through  the  ages  long, 

Oh,  but  it's  hell  to  be  hungry 

And  have  a  desire  to  die ; 
Then  hear  the  fast  express. 

With  moaning  heartlessness. 
Far  over  the  hills  go  by. 

How  ghastly  it  is  to  hear 
That  long  last  weeping  moan 
When  hungry  to  the  bone, 
And  never  shed  a  tear 

While  the  night  creeps  over  the  sky. 
Oh !  but  it's  hell  to  be  hungry. 

And  have  a  desire  to  die! 


109 


OF  LATE 

Oh!  God!  my  friends  fade  fast  away, 

And  all  at  once  I  stand  alone; 
Forsaken,  shunned,  and  forfeited 

To  buffet  worldly  ways  and  moan. 
With  all  the  things  earless  save  the  wind 

That  shrieks  and  howls  thus  to  impel 
More  hopeless  things  upon  my  mind, 

And  lead  me  on  a  little  spell 
To  Violence! 

But  yesterday  I  had  my  loves, 

And  went  as  they  with  joy  and  hope; 

Where  have  they  fled !  What  demon  shoves 

Me  out  into  the  world  to  cope 

With  all  its  hardships  friendlessly? 
And  stumbling  therein  all  alone 

I  fall,  I  sink,  so  endessly, 

Dowii!  Down!  for  I  have  flown 
To  Recompense! 

My  friends  have  friendless  cast  me  by, 

I  saw  them  truly  as  they  were; 
They  knew  me  not,  and  laughed  my  sigh 

To  ridicule;  and  when  a  blur 
Of  precious  tears  burnt  down  my  cheek 

In  pity  of  their  faithlessness — 
They  smiled,  and  left  me  there  to  reek, 

And  writhe,  and  moan,  so  powerless 
To   Renovate. 

My  pomp  and  power  of  yesterhour 

Have  left  me  pityless  and  poor; 
The  best  of  friends  has,  like  a  flower 

Its  petals  shed  to  give  no  more; — 
Shed  all  its  brilliant  faith  and  truth. 

That  clothed  the   inner  self  about — 
And  left  a  phantom  in  the  youth 

Of  wickedness,   all — wreathed  about 
With  Evil's  garb! 


110 
FAREWELL 

Can  walls  resound  with  laughter  of  the  past, 

Can  stones  relate  the  things  of  days  gone  by? 
Can  speech  cling  longer  than  the  echoes  last 

And  call  forth  gently  to  the  passer-by? 
Yea,  great  walls  crumble  in  the  mills  of  Time, 

Fall  slowly  down  to  the  receiving  ground ; 
But  from  their  withering  forms  there  comes  a  rhyme 

That  floats  out  gently  on  the  breeze  around ; 
They  slowly  part  with  all  the  views  they  saw. 

And  tell  the  tales  of  all  the  woes  and  joys 
Of  man,  as  he  passed  with  his  pith  and  straw, 

And  blaring  trumpets,  and  his  gaudy  toys. 
We  cannot  hear  the  tales  of  a  town, 

Deserted  long  ago  by  men  of  old ; 
We  cannot  hear  the  voices,  floating  down 

From  crumbling  ruins,  tell  the  tales  untold. 
As  long  as  we  are  thus,  we  cannot  hear 

These  lengthy  tales  of  long  ago ; 
These  voices  speak  to  but  the  meatless  ear, 

And  here  we  listen  but  we  do  not  know. 

How  long  will  future  men  assembled  here, 

Have  knowledge  that  we  once  were  in  these  halls; 
Or  will  they  care  that  we  once  left  a  tear, 

When  we  departed  from  these  brooding  walls? 
Do  you  have  knowledge  of  the  men  of  yore. 

Who  stood,  and  danced,  and  sang,   where  you  now 
stand? 
You  do  not  care  what  happened  here  before 

You  trod  your  trail  across  the  trackless  sand ! 
And  it  will  be  but  just  a  moment^s  time 

Till  you  and  I  will  quickly  be  forgot; 
We  leave  this  place  without  a  drum  or  chime, 

Our  places  fill  with  others,  we  are  not! 
Remember  when  you  tripped  so  joyously. 

To  learn  your  numbers,  and  to  read  a  book ; 
Where  are  the  friends  you  daily  used  to  see  ? 


Ill 

To  find  them  now,  where  would  you  have  to  look? 
The  children  in  your  school  to  you  are  new, 

They  walk  within  that  treadmill  with  their  friends; 
All  that  the  school  has  knowledge  now  of  you 

Is  all  within  your  mental  odds  and  ends. 

We  have  no  knowledge  of  the  here-to-fore. 

We  have  no  eye  to  see  the  here-to-after; 
We  only  see  that  others  were  before. 

And  look  ahead  with  sorrow  and  with  laughter. 
We  cannot  help  a  mite  that  which  we  are, 

As  far  as  we  are  physically  concerned ; 
We  cannot  look  back  in  the  darkness  far. 

And  see  the  light  which  we  know  must  have  burned. 
We  only  faintly  in  the  mists  ahead. 

Discern  what  those  to  follow  are  to  be ; 
When  everything  is  done  and  all  is  said. 

We  are  slaves  of  present — cannot  flee. 
It  is  not  our  fault  that  we  are  here. 

The  wonder  is  that  we  are  here  at  all; 
And  there  is  nothing  for  o\ir  souls  to  fear, 

We  can  do  either;  we  can  rise  or  fall; 
If  we  rise  up  and  gain  all  human  heights. 

We  glitter  here  a  moment — quickly  fade ; 
If  down  we  fall  while  looking  t'ward  the  lights. 

There  is  no  mocking  by  the  vacant  shade. 


SALAMANDER 

Red  salamander  I, 

Bred  in  a  pool  close  by, 

Living  from  day  to  day. 

Giving  where  e'er  I  go 

(In  my  aquatic  way) 

'Kin  to  a  candle's  glow, 

A  touch  of  color  there 

May  make  dark  waters  fair. 

With  joy  I  swim. 

Give  light  to  dim,  dark  pools. 


112 


LIFE'S  EPITOME 

I 

Song  of  Matter 

Changing  ever  in  a  grand  ethereal  cycle 

(The  watch-word  of  the  Universe  is  change) 
Each  element  where  e'er  it  may  exist 

Has  countless  times  been  circled  thu  the  range 
Of  combinations  with  other  elements; 
Each  one  has  been  a  solid,  fluid,  gas, 
And  for  eternal  times  will  quickly  pass 
On  thru  these  same  conditions  o'er  and  o'er. 

Tho  some  are  kncwh  as  solids  on  the  earth 

And  seem  as  tho,  now,  they  shall  always  be, 

The  passing  time  will  be  but  moments  few, 

While  figuring  into  infinity, 

When  this  small  sphere  again  will  turn  to  gas, 

Fulfilling  astronomical  cycle,  pass 

On  to  repeat  the  process  o'er  once  more. 

Of  all  the  matter  in  the  endless  space, 
Extending  in  a  never  ceasing  sphere. 

Not  one  small  atom  (which  may  ne'er  be  seen) 
Will  e'er  be  lost,  nor  will  it  ever  fear 

Of  being  e'er  destroyed. 

For  it  will  ever  be  as  it  has  been. 

Base  matter  knew  ho  youth  in  ages  old, 

For  backward  goes  into  infinity 
And  it  shall  know  no  age,  thru  times  untold 

Which  come  beyond  the  times  that  are  to  be. 

II 

Song  of  Youth 

Dancing  with  the  merriest  laughter  sweet 
Upon  small,  dainty  and  shapely  feet 
There  glides  a  spirit — 

Or  'twould  seem 

As  tho,  in  some  ethereal  dream — 


113 

Far  up  the  meadow  land  away 
When  sun  is  low  in  early  day. 

Ha!  All  is  joy 
And  all  is  light, 
Perfume  so  sweet, 
Breeze  to  delight, 
Birds  winging  fleet 
Sweet  cooings  low 
Of  wooing  dove 
Professing  love 
In  accent  slow. 

How  dew  drops  shine 
On  spider  webs. 
And  tendrils  twine, 
And  leaflets  shake 
And  shimmer  in  the  sun, 
,    While   bubbles  run 
And  sparkle  on  the  rill; 
As  onward   flits 
The  figure  up  the  hill. 

Ha!  Ha!  Oh,  joy! 
How  sweetly  sing 
The  world  of  birds 
And   everything. 
With   fleeting  dance. 
While  tresses  float 
As  if  by  chance. 
Behind  white  throat. 
She  flutters  in  the  dell. 

Ha!  Ha;  Ho!  Ho! 
Where  tresses  flow 
From  beaming  face 
Glowing  from  race 
In  balmy  place. 
There  racing  let  me  go! 


114 

III 
Sons:  of  Age 

On  finger  aged,  and  grey,  and  blue, 

With  veins  of  sluggish  oozing  blood, 
There  shines — 

On  finger  wrinkled,  showing  well  the  marks  of  time. 

And  stiffened  for  the  lack  of  youth's  vitality, 
There  gleams — 

On  finger  shrunken  and  near  void  of  warmth 

And  with  each  passing  day  obtaining  more  of  cold. 
There  glows — 

A  sparkling  diamond  glittering  brilliantly. 

So  clear  and  beautiful, 
Symbol  of  purest  love 
It  dances,  sparkling  forth  its  joy 
In  radiant  flashes  all  around 
The  trembling  finger  grey. 

Sparkling  of  youth, 

(Forth  from  a  faded  skin) 
Sparkling  of  bygone  days, 

(As  only  on  such  a  finger  can) 
Sparkling  of  joy,  and  hope,  and  love, 

(On  wrinkles  that  tell  of  woe) 
Sparkling  of  loved  ones  long  since  gone, 

(On  finger  ready  to  go) 
The  diamond  glitters,  and  gleams,  and  glows 

So  bright,  and  only  such  a  finger  knows 
How  bright  a  stone  can  shine. 

Fading  finger, 

Glittering  stone. 
Blood-drops  linger, 

'Gainst  the  bone ; 
Soon  there  will  be 

All  alone 
Diamond  dancing. 


115 

(Finger  flown) 
Shining  still 

As  it  has  shone. 

IV 
Song  of  the  Soul 

Love, 

Everything  is  love ; 

All  that  ever  has  been  in  the  past, 

And  to  be  in  the  future,  is  but  love ; 

Each  atom  speaks  of  love, 

Each  sun-star  beams  with  love, 

And  all  the  infinite  Universe 

Is  singing  infinite  love. 

Love  was  from  the  first — 
Will  be  to  the  last— 
For  all  of  the  All  is  love. 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  HOE 

It's  the  man  with  the  hoe  that  cuts  the  weeds. 

It's  the  man  that  works  all  day ; 
It's  the  man  you  know  by  his  humble  deeds. 

That's  the  man  of  men  today. 
So  hail  the  man  that  grinds  along. 

Shout  loud  with  cap  in  air; 
Come  on  you  can,  join  in  the  song. 

Hail  the  man  with  the  hoe  over  there ! 

It's  the  man  with  a  hoe  and  his  sleeves  rolled  up, 

It's  the  man  with  his  elbows  bare ; 
It's  the  man  I  show  with  a  dripping  cup, 

Whom  I  hail  with  cap  in  air. 
He's  a  man  with  heart,  it's  a  heart  of  gold ; 

As  true  as  the  sky  is  blue ; 
So  let  us  start,  now  shout  out  bold : 

"Here's  a  man  that's  really  true." 


116 
NOW 

Ha!  ha!  some  solely  seek  to  gain 
A  paradise  of  endless  reign ; 
But  as  for  me  I  daily  find 
A  paradise  around  me  twined; 
With  all  their  thoughts  on  future  bliss 
This  paradise  around  them  miss; 
While  I  in  wondrous  glory  dwell, 
They  deem  the  pi-esent  merely  hell. 
What  e*er  I  do,  where  e'er  I  be, 
I  make  my  paradise  for  me. 

I  greet  each  day  with  joy  and  love 
As  some  folks  hope  to  do  above ; 
Each  hour  passing  thru  the  day 
I  force  to  glorify  my  way, 
And  make  my  daily  paradise. 
And  if  there  is  some  planned  device 
Where  we  shall  dwell  in  endless  peace 
I  know  that  I,  when  I  decease. 
Shall  be  there  too  amid  the  mass 
Which  will  the  pearly  portals  pass. 

The  future  takes  care  of  its  own. 
And  e'en  if  I  am  all  alone 
In  hills,  or  mountains,  or  near  the  sea, 
ril  make  my  paradise  for  me. 


BEAUTY 

If  everyone  could  only  see. 
The  beauty  hid  in  every  tree, 

And  flower,  and  every  person,  too, 
How  pleasanter  this  world  would  be 
For  everyone,  and  you,  and  me. 


117 
TO  ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON 

Fve  never  seen  the  golden  sun 

Light  shining  upon  perpetual  spring 

In  far  off  tropic  isles ;  or  run 
Of  breakers  chasing  up  the  reef, 

And  slippery  rocks,  where  caverns  sing 
With  chanting  song  beyond  belief; 

But  I  will  see 

I've  never  stood  on  mossy  crag 

That  overlooks  the  brilliant  sea 
To  watch  the  greens  and  purples  lag 

Beyond  the  foam  of  breaker  line, 
And  dazzling  emerald  of  lagoon 

Flecked  o'er  with  blues  and  pinks  that  shine ; 
But  I  will  stand 

I've  never  heard  the  breezes  sing 
Among  the  palms,  and  all  the  vines 

That  to  the  tropic  tree-trunks  cling. 
Or  all  the  buzzing  insects  hum 

Past  flowers  in  clusters  or  in  lines, 
And  warbling  birds  a-flitting  come; 

But  I  will  hear 

I've  never  sailed  from  isle  to  isle, 

On  swelling  bosom  of  the  deep 
To  see  the  mellow  sunlight  smile 

On  waving  palms,  and  coral  growth, 
And  all  the  golden  vapors  creep 

From  hill  to  hill  along  the  steep ; 
But  I  will  sail 

For  very  early  in  July 

Of  nineteen-twenty-five  I  will 
Pack  up  my  trunk  and  bid  good-bye 

To  my  home  land  I  love  so  well, 
(Provided  I  am  living  still) 


118 


And  come  down  there  to  where  you  dwell ; 
And  I  will  come 

Your  spirit  has  been  calling  me, 

And  I  will  yield  unto  the  call; 
ril  pack  my  rags  and  put  to  sea, 

And  with  your  spirit  roam  the  isles; 
And  with  my  heart,  and  soul,  and  all, 

Succumb  unto  the  tropic  wiles; 
While  I  am  there! 


YOU  OR  I? 


With  clanging  bells,  and  honk  on  honk 
Of  horns  along  the  gaudy  street. 

And  shrieks  and  shouts  and  newsy  yells 
And  clatter  of  a  thousand  feet 

Along  the  walk;  still  louder  grates 
And  floats  uncanny  o'er  the  noise 

An  old  discordant  violin. 

With  hustle  and  a  rustle  pass 

The  people  in  a  throbbing  mass 

And  only  one  in  all  that  host 

So  much  as  turns  his  head  aside 

To  see  the  figure  ('most  a  ghost) 

Which  scrapes  and  groans  with  ghastly  tune ; 

And  that  one  stopped  near,  ere  he  spied 

Between  the  mass  of  moving  feet 

The  old  man  begging  for  his  meat. 

With  old  torn  hat,  and  rags  a-hanging  'round 
His  juicy  whiskers  all  tobacco  browned. 
He  crouches  low  against  the  granite  stone 
So  near  to  passing  hundreds,  yet  alone, 
He  draws  the  bow  with  awful  tone ; 
And  with  his  strength  near  petrified 


119 

He  uses  what  is  left  to  wield  the  bow 
For  nourishment  long  since  ill  satisfied. 

The  mass  still  moves  with  clapping  shoes 
The  whistles  blow,  the  news-boys  shriek, 

The  one  stands  by  with  hand  at  eye 
To  brush  away  the  tears  that  leak ; 

The  one  bows  low — as  he  must  go — 
His  own  lone  way  with  visage  meek. 

A  hole  in  hat,  a  rag  around, 

And  whiskers  all  tobacco  browned 

And  slimy  with  the  dusky  ooze. 

And  violin  beneath  the  heap; 
As  stone  to  stone,  against  a  stone. 
Are  they  and  wall  there  all  alone ; 

With  ne'er  a  break  no  watch  they  keep. 


IN  MEMORIAM 


We  all  are  beckoned  forth  by  gracious  hand. 
To  serve  each  other  in  this  world  old ; 

We  all  are  gathered  from  ethereal  sand. 

And  ushered  in  with  lust'rous  clouds  of  gold. 

Our  bodies  move  about  for  bits  of  time, 
And  trip  the  light  fantastic,  or  perchance 

We  plod  with  sullen  step,  whose  ancient  rhyme. 
Will  always  thrust  some  of  us  in  a  trance. 

When  all  the  world  is  filled  with  light  of  sun, 
.    That  slants  across  the  grassy  meadows  near. 
And  all  of  us  are  filled  with  joyous  fun. 
We  never  do  detect  a  lurking  fear. 

When  all  the  tinkling  stars  are  shining  bright, 
Reminding  us — the  Maker  and  His  work; 


120 

How  can  we  thrust  upon  our  dimly  sight, 
The  dangers  that  around  our  bodies  lurk? 

When  slowly  sinks  the  moon  with  paling  light, 
And  tints  with  ghastly  haze  the  things  we  see ; 

Then  does  the  creepy  feeling  of  the  night 
Thrust  on  us  all  the  dangers  that  there  be. 

This  moving  sod  that  shuns  ethereal  things, 
Must  sometime  cease  its  moving  to  and  fro; 

Then  out  that  ever  eternal  spark  soon  swings, 
Up  on — and  on —  and  on — we  hardly  know. 

When  one  poor  soul  is  treading  all  alone 
The  prickly  pear  of  life  with  all  its  tears; 

There  is  no  one  his  parting  to  bemoan. 
And  write  down  in  a  book  his  useful  years. 

But  after  all  what  is  there  to  a  book? 

No  more  than  mite  of  time  can  it  endure ; 
The  single  men  that  look  about  us  look 

For  more,  but  they  can't  find  it  to  be  sure. 

What  care  we  if  man  write  us  not  with  words? 

What  care  we  if  Oblivion  marks  us  well? 
We  live  between  but  two  eternities, 

And  must  pass  on  with  tolling  of  the  bell. 

What  difference  does  it  make  if  we  do  die 
And  perish  on  the  scorching  desert  sands? 

What  difference  does  it  make  if  we  do  lie. 
And  feel  the  breezes  of  the  buzzard's  fans? 

What  care  we  if  we  die  on  mountain  peak. 
Where  thrashing  silence  beats  the  slipp'ry  air? 

What  care  we — if  the  coyotes  slowly  sneak 
Upon  our  deaf,  dumb,  bodies  lying  there? 


121 

Will  living  in  a  palace  when  you  die. 

Project  your  soul  into  ethereal  space? 
Can  that  remove  the  glass  from  out  your  eye, 

Or  help  increase  the  speed  of  soul's  slow  pace? 

May  not  the  man  that  dying  there  afar, 

Have  not  as  great  a  soul  as  one  'mong  men? 

Just  being  there  alone,  how  can  that  bar. 
That  soul  from  going  back  where  it  began? 

We  all  must  shine  a  little  season  here, 

Then  must  grow  dim  and  vanish  in  the  night ; 

Then  slowly  slip  from  out  our  bodies  sheer. 
And  go  once  more  to  Heaven's  glorious  light. 

One  evening  when  the  sun  was  sinking  low. 
And  flooded  everything  with  golden  light; 

The  sun — it  set  his  living  soul  aglow. 

And  took  away  the  dread  of  coming  night. 

And  more  than  once  when  all  the  stars  were  out. 
He  sat  and  gazed  at  them  in  solemn  thought; 

And  all  that  interests  man  he  dreamed  about; 
And  worked  on  plans — the  way  they  should 
be  taught. 

For  years  he  watched  many  an  ethereal  ring, 
And  gazed  on  them  in  solemn  sacred  awe; 

He  heard  the  orbs  their  wond'rous  music  sing. 
And  others  were  the  wonders  that  he  saw. 

And  now — the  elements  have  struck  him  low. 
The  very  ones  he  studied  when  at  school ; 

As  if  in  fierce  revenge  they  did  it  so. 

Why  could  they  not  have  struck  some  vacant 
fool? 

Thus  runs  the  world  upon  its  dreary  rim, 
And  takes  us  through  the  years  one  by  one ; 


122 

We  daily  sing  our  everlasting  hymn, 
The  sickly  song  of  sadness  on — and  on. 

And  all  about  us  our  friends  hum  this  tune, 
Pretty  laughter  sings  it  and  some  know  it  not ; 

And  never  reaches  man  unto  his  noon. 

Without  he  casts,  and  draws  his  dreary  lot. 

As  long  as  loud  humanity  rolls  *long, 
This  sad  hum  above  all  it  will  be  heard ; 

Forming  the  misty  notes  of  mystic  song — 
But  never  shall  it  form  a  single  word. 

When  two  friends  meet  upon  the  gap  of  time, 
And  each  must  turn  toward  his  separate  way; 

Then  must  the  song  of  sadness  hum  his  rhyme. 
While  they  embrace  to  meet  some  distant  day. 

The  world  is  growing  more  sad  and  wonderful ; 

And  everyone  does  sing  to  everyone 
The  song  of  sadness  in  its  measure  full, 

Tho  he  may  think  he*s  singing  all  alone. 

It  is  not  all  in  vain ;  so  we  should  do 

All  that  we  can  to  help  the  world  along. 

And  help  our  friends  while  we  are  passing  thru, 
And  cheer  them  up  with  all  our  joyous  song. 


HIS  MAJESTY 


With  a  "Rah-ta-ta",  and  a  sharp  '*Car-hoo"— 

Out  from  the  woods  the  old  owl  calls; 
And  you  can  hear  it  plainly  too ; 

Now  a  reign  of  silence  falls. 
By  the  side  of  the  road,  by  the  side  of  the  fence, 
You  will  hear  the  sharp  call  and  wonder  whence 
Such  a  lone  weird  call  can  issue  from ; 
But  I'll  tell  you  where  the  woods  and  the  slough 
Combine  in  one,  so  murky  and  wild. 
You  can  see  the  call  personified. 
On  the  top  of  a  tree  sitting  calm  and  mild — 
Large  wide  eyed. 


123 
A  PERFECT  LAND 

Far  to  the  west  in  sunset  land, 

Where  the  breezes  breathe  and  blow ; 

Where  the  running  waves  creep  up  the  sand, 
And  the  white  foam  follows  slow; 

Where  the  breakers  dash  and  spray  bounds  high, 

On  the  rock's  stern,  craggy  form ; 
And  the  misty  clouds  across  the  sky 

Sweep  onward  with  the  storm ; 

Where  the  seagulls  fly  from  time  to  time, 

Or  float  upon  the  waves; 
And  the  green  crabs  crawl  about  and  climb 

Among  the  ocean's  caves; 

Where  the  white  seasands  stretch  far  and  wide, 
And  the  sand  dunes  roll  and  heave ; 

And  the  sand-piper  runs  along  beside 
The  shells  the  lusty  waves  leave ; 

Far  to  the  western  rocky  isles 

Where  the  palms  swing  to  and  fro ; 
Where  the  earth  is  decked  with  golden  smiles, 

Is  the  place  I  want  to  go ! 


WHERE  BALDY  REIGNS  IN  PEACE 

Did  you  ever  see  when  you  traveled  free. 

In  the  land  of  light  and  sun ; 
Out  in  the  Southwest  by  the  sea ; 

Where  the  world  is  filled  with  fun ; 
Out  in  the  west  in  Angeles  land. 

Where  the  Orange  trees  thrive  and  grow ; 
Where  the  Eucalyptus  bows  and  bends, 

When  the  sweet  sea  breezes  blow; 
Did  you  ever  see  when  in  the  train, 


124 

Sliding  along  at  forty  or  so, 
Across  the  valley  bright  and  gay, 

Old  Baldy  white  with  snow? 
If  you've  seen  that  sight,  you  may  bless  your  soul. 

For  its  the  grandest  you  ever  will  see ; 
And  it's  just  as  true,  as  Vm  telling  you. 

You  can  just  take  that  from  me ! 


TO  HELEN 


Oft  when  I  sit  at  evening  time. 

And  watch  the  sunset's  glow. 
And  listen  to  the  breeze's  chime 

In  cypress  sweet  and  low ; 

Of  you  I  think,  you  know. 
Oh,  Helen!  My  Helen! 

When  strolling  through  the  meadows  wide, 

Or  in  the  tree's  cool  shade, 
I've  thought  of  you  and  oft  have  sighed ; 

The  flowers  dancing  in  the  glade. 

For  such  as  you  were  made,  • 
Oh  Helen!  My  Helen! 

If  I  could  see  your  beaming  face. 

For  just  a  little  while, 
When  roving  but  from  place  to  place. 

Observing  Nature's  style — 

Oh !  for  just  a  smile. 
Oh  Helen!  My  Helen! 


125 


TO  WORK 

I  meet  a  face  upon  my  way  to  work 

Upon  its  way  to  daily  labor  too ; 
It  comes  along  with  bounding  rapid  gait 

And  passes  me  so  quickly  on  the  street 
That  only  for  a  moment  can  I  gaze 

Upon  the  flashing  face  with  which  I  meet, 

What  kind  of  work  that  face  may  witness  each 
And  every  day,  I  only  can  but  guess, 

But  it  is  something  with  a  daily  grind 

That  prints  upon  that  visage  hopelessness; 

I  wonder  if  I  too  am  recognized 

And  contemplated  by  that  face's  mind. 


TO  LAUGH  OR  TO  CRY 

When  you  don't  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry 
I  guess  it's  better  to  laugh. 

When  your  best  friend  has  turned  you  down 
And  you  feel  as  tho  you'll  die. 
And  you  feel  alone  in  a  world  of  woe 
And  don't  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry 
It's  better  for  you  to  laugh,  you  know. 

When  all  is  lost  and  hope  has  fled 
And  the  world  seems  plumb  insane, 

And  you  have  a  mind  you'd  better  be  dead 
Than  suffer  heart-breaking  pain — 

And  you  don't  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry 

At  the  way  things  go  you're  passing  by, 
I  guess  you'll  gain  if  you  laugh. 

Even  if  to  weep  seems  best  to  you 

And  the  lumps  swell  up  and  your  throat  grows 

numb. 
Just  swallow  the  lumps  (it's  the  best  to  do) 
And  let  the  rollicking  laughter  come. 


126 
POST  MORTEM 

(Inspired  by  the  melody  of  Chopin's  Funeral  March.) 
Tho  now  I  lie  with  pallid  white,  crossed  hands, 
And  tho  I  ne'er  shall  move  myself  among 
My  friends  again,  which  are  so  dear  to  me ; 
E'en  tho  the  last  of  all  my  songs  is  sung ; 
Tho  ne'er  again  shall  I  sit  by  the  sea, 
Or  leave  my  footprints  on  the  ocean's  sands; 
Tho  no  more  tread  among  the  pasture  lands ; 
Nor  sweet  repose  enjoy  the  brook  beside ; 
Or  sit  alone  in  ancient  oak-tree  shade ; 
Tho  with  the  fleeting  zephyrs  ne'er  play  hide 
And  seek  among  the  slender  poplars  tall ; 
To  e'er  caress  the  rose  my  hand  is  stayed ; 
And  rollic  with  the  children  never  more; 
Tho  never  shall  I  do  the  all,  and  all. 
Which  always  with  full  love  I  did  before : 

Tho  now  I  lie  with^  pallid^  white,  crossed  hands, 

My  love  will  dweWforever  with  my  friends; 

Why  do  you  weep?     Aigl  not  now  with  you? 

There  is  no  need  to  weep]|3iake  amends. 

Or  sob  regrets  that  I  amihere  no  more ; 

Tho  now  I  lie  with  pallid  white,  crossed  hands, 

Still  sing  I  on  throughout  the  Universe ; 

I'll  always  murmur  with  the  breaking  sea; 

And  ever  swish  across  the  pastures  by; 

When  babbling  fiear  the  brook,  also  hear  me; 

And  I  will  spread  me  where  the  shadows  lie; 

Tho  now  I  lie  with  pallid  white,  crossed  hands, 

I'll  ever  whisper  when  the  zephyrs  sigh 

Among  the  leaves  where  every  poplar  stands; 

Forever  will  I  mingle  with  perfume 

That  e'er  shall  blend  with  beauty  of  the  rose ; 

My  play  with  little  children  will  resume. 

As  over  them  I  hover  when  they  play; 

I'll  still  do  all  my  loving  spirit  knows, 

Tho  now  I  lie  with  pallid  white,  crossed  hands. 

THE  END 


POST  SCRIPT 

Tho  now  the  end  is  here 

My  love  goes  on, 
There  is  no  doubt  or  fear 

Where  it  has  gone ; 

For  well  I  know 
It  shall  pervade  all  space, 
Tho  I  know  not  its  pace. 

It  soon  shall  flow 

From  sun  to  sun, 
And  with  the  Universe 

It  shall  be  one. 

Tho  minute  organisms, 

And  leafless  mold 
Each  page  disintegrate, 
(Which  is  its  natural  fate) 

And  ages  old 
Grow  older  with  the  new, 

Then  shall  my  love 
Live  on,  and  on,  and  on — 

And  far  above 
The  base  destruction  of  the 

printed  page, 
Shall  reign  for  times  eternal 
thru  an  endless  age. 


CHRONOLOGY 


ME  people  are  interested  in  knowing  the  datea 
when  certain  works  were  written.  I  trust  that 
those  who  wish  to  know  in  this  instance  will  find 
these  pages.  The  earlier  works  show  the  fact  that 
they  are  such  in  the  lines  themselves;  but  in  case  such  is 
not  recognized  the  following  may  clarify  the  matter. 

Following  are  the  titles  and  dates  in  order  of  the 
table  of  contents: 

NAME  WRITTEN 

(Apology  1913) 

Dream  Prelude  1918 

The  Student  and  the  Fly  1917 

Paradise  1919 

Song  of  the  Marsh  1917 

In  Desert  Winter  Wind 1919 

Sunset 1918 

In  Desert  Wash 1919 

Sierra  Sunset 1919 

Alone  1919 

Unknown 1919 

Only  a  Frog 1918-19 

The  Devil's  Rhapsody 1917-19 

Out  of  the  Deep 1918-19 

The  Legend  of  "Las  Lamas"  1914-15 

To  Thomas  A.  Edison 1918 

To  Chopin  1919 

To  Rubenstein  1919 

Near  the  Sea  1919 

Homo  et  Natura  1919 

Why  1919 

Gentle  Rain  1919 

Oh,  Ocean !  1919 

My  Dream  Pianist 1917 

The  Fountain 1918 

To  William  Wendt 1919 

At  Laguna  1917 


Yelfenso 1914-17 

Shady  Nooks  1915-17 

To  Mme.  Ellen  Beach  Yaw 1913 

A  Painter's  Song 1918 

The  Wizard — Old  Baldy  1916-17 

Love  1913 

The  Haunting  Trail 1916 

A  Wanderer's  Song 1916 

Dreaming 1917 

— But  All  of  Us  Angeles  Are 1918 

In  the  Heart  of  the  Heartless 1919 

Of  Late  1916 

Farewell 1917 

Salamander  1919 

Life's  Epitome  1919 

The  Man  With  the  Hoe 1916 

Now  1919 

Beauty  1914  .... 

To  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 1919 

You  or  I?  1919 

In  Memoriam 1916 

His  Majesty 1916 

A  Perfect  Land  1916 

Where  Old  Baldy  Reigns  in  Peace 1917 

To  Helen  1918 

To  Work 1919 

To  Laugh  or  To  Cry 1919 

Post  Mortem  1919 

Post  Script  1917 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN     INITIAL     FINE     OF    25    CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  fl.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


YB   I  1 966 


415572 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  LIBRARY 


iii 


